


Kinktober Misadventures 2020

by TheSpectralDuke



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Balcony Scene, Body Worship, Breast Fucking, Clothed Sex, Come Swallowing, Cuckolding, Dildos, Doggy Style, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fire-Aspected Aether as an Aphrodisiac, First Time, Food Play, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kinktober 2020, Large Breasts, Leather Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Multi, NSFW, Oral Sex, Orgy, Pegging, Phone Sex, Porn, Pregnancy, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Scissoring, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Somnophilia, Teasing, Tent Sex, Tentacles, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 107,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26760250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpectralDuke/pseuds/TheSpectralDuke
Summary: Giving Kinktober a go to hone my smut, set in what I'm now dubbing the "Misadventures verse". Tags will be updated as new shorts are added, potential spoilers right up to Shadowbringers.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters, Y'mhitra Rhul/Original Character(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44





	1. Without Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by/using prompts from Zaidee (Eyrine), found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466580
> 
> Prompt: First Time

On the eve of Operation Archon, Naeve found herself restless.

Long ears and blonde hair streaked with snow white danced in the breeze as the viera stood on the inn rooftop in twilit Vesper Bay, gazing down on her comrades from on high much as Estinien had her an age ago. Back when she was but a lancer, an adventurer, _craven_.

Azure Dragoon. A Warrior of Light. A hero. Those were the titles others called her, the names they toasted when she walked past, but in the dusk before what might well be her final day Naeve felt like the girl who had run half the world in fear. Trying to root herself she traced her eyes over Vesper Bay, picking out each hero in turn.

Gerlind there by Lolorito's pompous statue, a group of Immortal Flames enraptured by the highlander's rousing speech. Mimimoru and his... retainer? Lover? She'd thought the former but when her eyes found them the two lalafell shared an embrace much too intimate. She moved on, finding Kuri with a small audience, the raen bard's chords faint to Naeve's ears as the wind turned. Asmir lingered nearby, the hrothgar doubtless attempting another ill-conceived proposition the moment an opening arose. Finally Maurelin and Tahla fell into her gaze, hands on each other as they escaped into a dark corner free of prying eyes.

A sigh brushed her lips. All content, seeking comfort in others. All except-

“Did you mean to spend the night up here?”

Naeve turned her head and glanced past a drachen mail spike to find the last of the Warriors of Light. His coat dark as the night sky between the stars, Solemn Flame stood with a wry smile. The hellsguard's pointed hat had been abandoned somewhere, leaving his hairless scalp bare to the stars.

“Merely observing,” the dragoon replied, smiling as Kuri's song came to its end with a round of cheers. “And you?”

The roegadyn's chuckle boomed. “I thought us past the stage where you brooded off in a corner, Naeve, especially on such an important eve.”

“Old habits do not die easy,” the viera answered, trying not to smile but failing. The black mage smiled too.

“Let them die,” he said. “I would rather have your company at hand than at a distance, Naeve.”

Naeve turned to face him fully, watching his gaze take in her spiked shell. “Forgive me. Old... old troubles.” The ghosts of Dalmasca over her shoulder, hissing _coward_ and _deserter_ even when she was the second Azure Dragoon and not merely a bright-eyed maiden pulled by the sweet song of rebellion. The white-clad Witch who kept her lair in the land Naeve had thought sanctuary.

Mayhap her worries showed, because Solemn Flame stepped closer. But three paces away now. “Let me share them.”

Instinct bade her shake her head as she always had and let her heart be as barbed as her mail. But that same heart longed to abandon solitude and cast away the ghosts of fear, so it was a nod she gave and a step she took. “Do you fear?” she asked.

The roegaedyn's head inclined. “Tis only natural. The land's fate hangs on our actions come the morrow. And any one of us may fall to van Baelsar's forces if not the man himself and his cursed Weapon.” A pause marked only by the strings of Kuri's harp strumming again. “You should not be alone.”

“You neither,” the dragoon retorted, and took another step. Only ilms separated them. She could see the hairs of his thin beard, the scars on skin the hue of clay brick, and ruby eyes bright when they met her own.

“Join me?” Solemn Flame murmured, the final step falling so they were all but touching. His fingers brushed on her gauntlets. “This night may be our last.”

Naeve looked up into his eyes, took his hands in a steel-clad grip. He shivered at her touch but held her gaze. “Then you wish to die without regret?”

He gave a chuckle. “I would rather not die, and that you more than any other still live and breathe when the day is done.” Her heart sang unfamiliar notes and she felt heat creep into her cheeks. “Come out of the cold, Naeve, and let me keep you warm this night.”

“A bold proposition,” she murmured, before a smile turned her lips. “But be what tomorrow may, let it be without regret.” She stretched up, closing the distance in height to place a kiss on his lips. Their hands tightened as he reciprocated with the hunger of a long-held desire, his grip slipping to her waist to pull her as close as he could. Ghosts faded in the heat of him, the Witch's specter likewise fading from her mind as Naeve gave in to the ache of longing.

When they parted Kuri's song was ending, chords winding down as their breaths came in pants. Deep red eyes met cold blue, both filled with insatiable want.

“My room,” Solemn Flame breathed huskily.

Naeve gave a sharp nod and they were in motion, connected by held hands as the roegadyn rushed them down the stairs back inside. No one was on the landing, occupied by the festivities or others, and so they swiftly passed into the roegadyn's room. Not much made it distinct from her own, a plain bed, furnishings typical of many a Thanalan inn, but Naeve had little patience to spare on that as the door closed. Like a dragon she pounced, feeling one of his great hands in her hair and another in the small of her back as more famished kisses passed. Her own hands felt him through his robes, not as toned as one might expect but perfect to her touch. He tasted of the honey he so loved when her tongue met his between their lips, a deeper kiss than any she had ever shared.

Chests heaving as they parted, they held each other for a moment and looked into longing eyes. “I would see you laid bare,” the roegadyn breathed, his husky purr making her skin tingle with levin. Obligingly she let him step away, mail-garbed fingers working at her gauntlets. One after the other they were undone and cast to the floor, black plate giving way to snowy flesh. Those pale fingers worked off her boots next, feeling Solemn Flame's fingers play across one ear. The viera whimpered at the sensation, never had she been touched so intimately.

“Flame,” she gasped as she rose, stood in scaly breeches and barbed breastplate. The roegadyn continued to caress her ear as his other hand ran over her breast to where the mail laid her stomach bare. His fingers were warm on her skin as he stroked, Naeve's eyes hooding as he worked gentle gasps from her lips. Daring, she unlaced his coat and he ceased his ministration to shrug it off entirely. It fell to the ground in a pool of black, brick-toned flesh exposed to her eyes and hands. Her fingertips traced over him, his shivers echoing her own as he continued to touch her.

“Am I the first?” the roegadyn asked after a moment's hesitation, as though trying to find a more tactful way to broach such.

Naeve nodded. “No one has had me. And you?”

A chuckle rippled his chest beneath her fingers. “Too buried in sorcery to turn any heads. I wonder why you noticed me.”

“Because you cared about a coward like me,” the viera answered. The day she had seen the Witch in the Echo, realized her worst fear had chased her to Eorzea, and Flame had been the one to chase after her.

Solemn as his name he kissed her again and ran a hand through snow-flecked blonde strands. “You are no coward. You are the bravest, most divine woman I have had the privilege to meet.”

Naeve felt her cheeks flush and her heart sing again. “And you the most surprising man to enter my life. But enough talk.” She let him go to work on her breastplate, clasps snapping undone and the mail sliding away with his help. Once the armor was cast aside she unlaced her breeches, letting him sit on the bed to dispense with his boots and trousers.

When Flame rose they both stood in smallclothes, him shorts that clung tight to a roused member, her a humble bra and panties in plain black. He looked her lithe figure up and done with lusting eyes as he approached and she in turn admired him with a hunger of her own. She could have spoken any number of wonderful things, but desire drowned the words and so it was action that took the lead. The viera drew close, let his hand cup her breast and his thumb tease over her nipple until she moaned. She had touched herself before when the need took her, but the warmth of his hand and the intimacy of letting another touch her so outshone the pleasure of masturbation by far.

Desperate to reciprocate and let him feel as she felt, her hand took his shaft through his smalls and began to stroke him. Inexperience made her slow and cautious, but his moan of appreciation soon saw hesitation cast to the wind and she worked the shaft toward full mast. His hips rocked as his free hand soon turned the curve of her hip toward her own sex, an extended finger tracing the outline of her wet labia on her panties. Naeve whined as his touch made her nerves sing and her hunger heighten, the roegadyn grinning down at her as though he too had been uncertain of his abilities.

The thought that they stood on mutual ground pushed the viera further and she planted kisses on his chest, feeling him tease her slit with a firmer touch that coaxed a moan from her throat. His other hand gripped her breast more firmly and the fingers dug in, the two hands working in tandem to make her body tense from head to toe. His work was nothing short of divine, already pushing her untouched body up the pathway that ended in orgasm with such talent that she would have doubted him a virgin were it not for his habitual honesty.

“May I?” the roegadyn asked, the hand on her breast slipping around to the bra's clasp. Naeve nodded eagerly, desperately to know how his touch felt without cloth between their skin, and he continued to rub at her womanhood as his fingers struggled at the clasp. His other hand joined his effort, but to no avail. Frustration crossed his eyes marred with embarrassment, the hand that had slain many a monster and villain thwarted by something so simple as her brasserie. “S-sorry. You must think me a fool.”

Naeve cast him a reassuring smile. “Only as inexperienced as I, which is no sin at all, Flame.” She relinquished her grip on his cock to bring her hands behind her back, undoing the clasp for him and feeling the bra loosen its hold. With eager eyes he finished tugging the garment away to bare milky pale breasts and large dark nipples, the latter already peaks atop her pert mounts. “How do you find me?”

“Beautiful,” the roegaedyn murmured as he let the bra fall and crouched down to her level. His breath tickled untouched skin before his lips pressed, Naeve stroking at his bald head as he began to kiss and suckle at her tit.

“Yesss, please Flame-” she gasped as he took a fold of skin and suckled hard enough to mark. Every touch felt as though it drove her need to a greater peak, a hand grasping the breast his mouth left neglected. He left her sex be but just his work on her bust left her trembling in gasps and whimpers for more. His tongue stroked across her skin and made her shiver as she pressed his head to her chest with both hands, longing for more of his efforts. A nipple slipped between his lips and she let him suckle like a babe upon it, crying out fully when his hand rolled the other between forefinger and thumb. “Oh, wherever did you learn all of this?” she whimpered breathlessly.

“Dirty literature,” the roegadyn chuckled as he released her, giving her a wink in answer to an incredulous look. “Have you never sampled erotic writing to help sate a certain _itch_?”

The dragoon shook her head and let herself smirk. “Mayhap I am a woman of action over words.”

He stood at full height and began to work his smallclothes down, dragging that bulge across the cloth. “Is that so? Then perhaps you would like to act for me.”

Naeve slid slowly to her knees, eyes fixated on his cock as it was pulled down. He drew out his undressing to let her kneel before him, only letting his member spring free when she was prepared for him. Though she couldn't claim to have any experience in the measuring of manhoods, he seemed a good size and a fine girth when she took him in. A patch of dark brown curls grew about the base, balls hanging heavy beneath his shaft until she curiously took them in hand to rub. He groaned softly.

“Stroke me or suck me, whichever you wish,” the roegadyn murmured, his voice hazy with pleasure at her touch. She opted for the former, her other hand curling around his girth and sliding to push the foreskin back over the glistening bulb of its head. His breath hissed in and out as she caressed his balls and stroked, gathering speed as he breathed her name. Oh gods, she felt so _alive_ , like her veins were full of levin in an instant. Spurred by his satisfied moans, she put her mouth to his cock and was rewarded. “Oh Naeve, please-”

The viera laid a lick across the head, tasting him, breathing his musk as she cautiously slipped his tip into her mouth. His hips bucked as she took him in, rubbing the head against the roof of her mouth and making her gag. A cough wracked her throat and spit stained her lips then his shaft, Naeve heaving in breath as Flame gently stroked at her hair.

“Forgive me,” he murmured apologetically. “You felt so good that I could not resist.”

Naeve wiped her watering eyes. “Mayhap another day, should it come.”

His concerned look turned to a wry smile. “I shall hold you to that, Naeve. But now, let me prepare you.” Slowly she rose and he carefully took her to the bed, laying her down and slipping fingers into the hem of her panties. When he tugged they stuck for a moment, their sodden cloth stuck against her sex until he pulled them free and laid her bare. The panties fell to the floor as he looked at her with loving, needing eyes, taking in smooth shaven skin around slick lips. He knelt between her legs and she rested them atop his shoulders when he leaned close, gusts of breath tickling her wet folds enough that she whimpered.

A finger first, prying her open and taking the measure of her petals. The viera's whines grew louder when the second carefully joined its brother inside her sex, teasing over her clit for a moment before slipping lower to let his head seek its prize. Naeve writhed as he kissed at the inside of her thighs and began fingering in earnest, his every sensual touch only seeming to make her core burn with greater need. His probing fingers brushed on her maidenhood and a moan escaped her, his tongue finally slipping into her flower and ringing her nub until she cried his name to the ceiling. If she was heard she no longer cared, lost in his touch and the fast-approaching moment where they would truly make love.

Even more carefully he added a third finger to those inside, ready to jerk his arm away the moment her cries of pleasure showed the merest hint of pain, but even with just instinct to guide him he was driving her toward the edge. His fingers curled, brushing the barrier within once more, and Naeve bucked into his face with a wail. She _needed_ him, more than his mouth and fingers, she _craved_ his cock within her.

“Take me,” the viera begged, head lifting to bring her eyes level to his. “Flame, now, please-” He shrugged her legs off his shoulders carefully, rising up with a hand stroking at his length. He stood at full mast, manhood throbbing with that same ache that burned in her sex as he bent his knees to line them up. Naeve watched with parted lips, moaning when his hardness brushed on her labia then slid in. His first thrust was off the mark and passed over her clit to leave a stain on her skin, his cheeks flushing darker with lust and embarrassment. Impatient as she was, the viera still forced another reassuring smile. “Do not worry,” she murmured. “Take your time.”

“Right,” the black mage nodded as he pressed against her again. Slowly, gently he slipped into her folds, both of them gasping then groaning as her walls rubbed against him. He was so _big_ that she thought she stretched merely to accommodate his length and twinges of pain ran through her, but she wanted him too much to stop now. He pressed against her hymen, hesitating, she was sure he knew what it was and what he had to do but the thought of hurting her clearly gave him pause. His red eyes met her blue again. “Naeve, are you certain that you want-?”

She nodded desperately, driven by that maddening ache in her loins. “I will be well, I promise.” Her fingertips reached up to brush his own, his hand taking hers as he tensed in preparation.

His cock thrust and took her maidenhood, a sharp pain biting in her nethers. Naeve could not stop herself from gasping nor her eyes watering, sure she felt blood on her walls as he lay still to let her recover. Her breath came in pants, slowly filling her lungs as the pain faded to a dull ache and his eyes remained locked on hers. The roegadyn reached up before she could, wiping the water from her eyelids and then gently smiling at her.

“Are you prepared?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Please.” He dragged out of her almost the whole way, then slowly filled her again. His passage set nerves ablaze and she let herself cry his name, the names of the gods, whatever came through her mind as he took her virginity and she his in a single passionate act. He was still big enough that she could not take him all the way, but her slick walls yielded only pleasure to his lovemaking now. She pawed at her breast beneath his gaze as he leaned over her, faces closing the distance until they kissed. Wanting him close, needing his touch, she stopped him to shuffle back on the bed. Her head landed atop a pillow as he chased her, entering her again with an aimed thrust before she curled her legs to pull him to her.

“So tight,” the roegadyn groaned as he went as deep inside her as he could. “Oh, Naeve, you must be a goddess.”

“Nay, only a craven hero,” the viera chuckled in answer, the tail of her mirth clipped by a thrust that made her wail his name. Sweat beaded on their skin as the bed creaked beneath them, his thrusts edging on rutting as his virgin passion made him chase his end and hers with desperate fervor.

“ _My_ hero,” he gasped with a deep thrust. “ _My_ Azure Dragoon.” The love in his voice made her blood sing its answer and she kissed him hard, again and again as she came to the cliff's edge, danced along it mindless of what lay beneath.

And as dragoons do, she jumped and fell.

Her orgasm hit, more powerful than any her fingers had teased out before. She trembled as it took hold of her and seized control of her body, fingers clenching like claws against his back, toes curling, hips bucking into him as her head slipped back and her ears were pressed up by the pillow beneath. Wordless joy sang from her lungs, animalistic cries of pleasure that tried to form his name but never quite managed it. She was only half aware of Flame desperately fucking her through it until finally he slipped from her sex and grasped his slick manhood with trembling hand, her name a mantra on his lips.

Warm seed splashed onto her belly and painted her pale flesh in murky white, a trail of cum that ran from bellybutton to the underside of her cleavage. The roegadyn panted as he spilled his release onto her body, marking his devotion in a sticky abstract until the last drops painstakingly dripped from his cock to land on her waist and he fell to her side. Both of them gasped for breath as though they had run a marathon, chests heaving, bodies shaking in their afterglow.

Slowly Naeve turned onto her side, resting against him. His cum stained them both as she lay against his chest and planted kisses on his face that he answered with his own.

“Whatever comes on the morrow,” the viera said finally as they lay staring into each others' eyes. “I pray that we meet again on the other side.”

He smiled. “We _will_ meet again on the other side, when van Baelsar lies dead and the Ultima Weapon in ruin. I promise it.”

Naeve drowned the voices of ghosts in her mind by kissing him again. “I promise it,” she repeated, holding him as he held her.

Come the morrow, there would be fear. There would be battle and bloodshed. But there would be victory, no regret, and on the other side they would lie together like this again.

She was sure of it.


	2. All the World to See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Balcony Sex

Tahla rested her arms atop the white stone parapet, gazing out across the expansive districts of Mist with a sense of triumph warming her heart. It had taken much time and effort, scraping coins together in Gridania, struggling to stand out from the crowd here in Limsa Lominsa, but they had _done it_. Like some royal of old Allag she looked down from her high balcony, the piece of their new apartment that she had gravitated to first of all. The view from her cramped inn room had been dismal and dank, gazing up at spires of white stone as though the heights she had yet to reach taunted her by being just out of reach.

Now she stood seven floors up from the island's ground, a round tower of white stone pointed toward the heavens their new home. Each Topmast apartment had a small balcony, little more than a square of white stone protruding out over the edge, only just wide enough for her and Maurelin to stand side-by-side and long enough that they could maybe squeeze a third person in behind them if they were so inclined. The apartment wasn't much, a room that encompassed lounge and kitchen with a washroom and bedroom split off, but it was far more comfort than the _Kraken's Lair_ and most of all it had this space where she could stand on high and gaze down, no longer a novice adventurer at rock bottom but a burgeoning hero amassing wealth, fame and power.

The dark-skinned keeper of the moon spread her lips in a smile as her eyes wandered over the street below, a warm breeze caressing over her ears while she watched the throngs passing in the streets below. Fellow adventurers and families, the wealthy of Limsa, those from Ul'dah and Gridania with the coin and wish to purchase a home away from home, maybe even those from stranger shores drawn by Limsa's cosmopolitan reputation. Some looked up at her and she waved down from on high with a wicked grin, reveling in her vantage. Eclectic housing stretched out before her, Eastern homes sat beside Ishgardian manors, Ul'dahn clay brick mingling with Gridanian wood. A few streets away the housing gave way to shorefront, waves crashing upon the island's bounds with pristine sands as the boundary.

A footstep behind her and the _feeling_ of him told her that Maurelin had joined her. She did not look back at the crimson-eyed duskwight even as his hands took her hips, her tail suddenly brushing on his front.

“A fine view,” he purred, hands taking the slightest touch of her rump before returning to their posts. Maurelin pressed against her, his hips touching firmly against the back of her own as he ran his hands up her sides. Fingertips stroked along the base of her breasts, his teasing touch making her shiver with anticipation as he bent over atop her. Their silhouettes pressed into one, his breath messing stray strands of hair before he kissed at the tip of one ear. Tahla sighed, loving his hands on her, his lips kissing and nipping, his hips rubbing on her rear, all signals of imminent lovemaking.

“Do you speak of me or what we see?” she teased back, a whimper pouring between her lips as he suckled on her ear's tip.

“Both, but primarily you,” the elezen whispered.

“Do you mean to _admire_ me?” she hissed, eyes narrowing as one hand encroached on her bust.

“I mean to do far more than that,” Maurelin chuckled between kisses, trailing his lips down to her neck as his hips retreated. Her gaze stayed firm as she whined, seeing those below looking up. What if they saw him doing this to her? Or what if one of their neighbors chanced to step out on their own balcony? The mental image of being caught bent over the edge with his cock ravaging her only made her want more. The _risk_ , the _taboo_ -

Maurelin derailed her train of thought by groping her tit hard while simultaneously scraping his teeth on the edge of her throat, the keeper groaning. She tried to push back and grind herself on him, but he had her stuck leaning on the wall with his presumably hardening cock out of her reach no matter how hard she writhed.

“So _eager_ ,” the duskwight chided. His breath raised gooseflesh on the back of her neck before he was gone, making her ache in his absence, then his fingers slipped red skirt up over white shirt. Tahla heard his chuckle as he doubtless inspected her white panties, one hand claiming her rump and thumbing the base of her tail as the other quested lower. A finger curled over her womanhood and the miqo'te gasped, her tail lashing when he pressed the fabric between her lips.

“You can do better than that,” she purred, keeping her eyes on the crowds, heart pounding when she waved back to someone far below she vaguely recognised. Maurelin laughed, the keeper whimpering when his hands abandoned their holds to let him lean over her again. His hardening cock pressed against her and ground the base of her sex as his hands took the wall either side of her.

“I will be sure to put on a performance worthy of our audience,” he breathed right into her ear, Tahla's knees shaking when that filthy mental image came back. Her core burned hot with desire when he humped into her and savaged her ear with his mouth, so wet now she was sure it stained her smalls.

“Maurelin,” she hissed, eyes lidded and the crowds below only just visible.

“Mmm?” he hummed, teeth fierce as they scraped at her neck. The keeper shivered, feeling his manhood press hard right to her sodden slit as Maurelin's hips slid down. The thrust punched a cry from her lips, pulling eyes below upward to investigate the sound. Could any of them glimpse him perched atop her, claiming her as a dog claimed its bitch? Did any of them guess what the balcony hid? “You have to speak, Tahla,” the duskwight snarled as he grabbed her hips for leverage, rutting into her again. She bit her lips to stifle another cry but it still came strangled. The stone bit at her elbows through the long sleeves of her shirt but she barely noticed, consumed by the erotic thrill of being humped with a live audience only just unaware of what the elezen was doing to her.

“Fuck me,” she hissed through gritted teeth, her trapped tail sweeping back and forth across her spine.

“And deprive them of a full show?” he teased back, but nonetheless he stopped rutting and drew away, hands leaving her hips to unlace his breeches. The hiss of leather on his thighs sang like music to her ears, then his hands tossed her skirt back down and tugged at its hem. The garment dropped to her feet and she stepped out of it, carelessly kicking it aside while he groped inside her shirt and pressed that rock hard bulge against her sodden smalls again.

“You teasing knave,” she snarled, voice cracking when he thrust. His hands took her breasts, pinched at hard nipples until she wailed through gritted teeth. The friction of his hips on hers drove her toward her pinnacle, the questioning gazes from down below only accelerating that flight.

“Do you think they realize?” Maurelin breathed huskily. “Do you imagine that right now they think _what a slut_ and _miqo'te whore_?” His taunting set her blood ablaze, his emphasis on words that should have been insults only making her long to be fucked on this balcony for all the world to see.

“More,” she moaned, grinding back against him. He whined in delight as her soaked panties rubbed his member, hips rutting a few times while he slipped her shirt up, up, pressing it right against the edge of the stone.

“Pardon me?” His lips took the tip of her ear, suckling on it as his tongue scraped over the point. Tahla almost wailed, fangs scraping her tongue as she strangled the cry. Perhaps he wanted her to break this facade and reveal to those below exactly what she was doing because he redoubled his efforts, savaging her neck hard enough to leave his mark, hands rough as they pinched nipples and kneaded tits, and most of all his hardness crashing onto her needing sex again and again. She pressed a forearm into her lips, all but biting down on her arm to strangle her noises. “Twelve,” the duskwight purred, spurred by the muffled sounds of her pleasure to rut her more fiercely.

Tahla's body sweated and shivered paradoxically, nerves pumped with levin by every slap of their hips and every bite of his teeth. Still her tail thrashed between her back and his chest, even the feeling of fur on skin another sensation to drive her toward a lustful madness as he did all he could to expose her short of lifting her above the parapet for all to see. But neither of them wanted that, reveling in the risk they skirted.

“Put your cock in me,” the keeper snarled, lips leaving her skin to reveal skin bitten purple and red. A gasp tore from her throat as his next thrust struck its mark, then desperately the duskwight dismounted her. Burning with need she pushed her own panties down while he took care of his own smallclothes, letting the sodden white underwear fall heavily around her feet. Warm juices brushed on her ankle while she regained her position, keeping her shirt hitched up to the point it almost bared her breasts to any below who chanced to look up.

Maurelin was done with games. With a growl he slammed his cock inside her, her knees threatening to buckle as his rough entry made stars dance across her eyes. Relentless as on his roughest nights he savaged her with lustful fervor, riding her like a beast while his mouth tore at her shoulder with kisses and nips. Fingernails dug into her hips, forcing her to take his rutting at full force, daring her not to give the game away despite his animalistic fucking.

“How _wet_ you are,” her lover snarled, forcing a stifled cry from her lips with a hard thrust into her spot. “I knew that you love sex, but I did not think an audience would reduce you to a crazed _slut_ , Tahla.” Husky pants ripped from his throat with each thrust, lending his words a raw edge that made her body sing. He had been rough before, marked her before, but never had prying eyes threatened to see and it was that danger that stoked her heat to greater heights.

“Our audience is bored,” she whimpered, forcing the words out between strangled sounds. Indeed, no one below looked up.

She could feel his leering grin on the back of her neck. “Then our performance must needs intensify.” She was about to quip that he was already spending his full might, but his next thrust put paid to that misconception. She panted desperately for breath, ears tight to her skull as Maurelin claimed every inch of her womanhood with his rutting, panting into the back of her neck. She felt like a pot boiling overlong, blazing with the heat of their coupling, ever about to overflow but never quite reaching the pinnacle. Her hips shook and ached from the force of his blows, skin stinging where he slapped into her rear over and over.

“Menphina Menphina Menphina!” she wailed into her abused forearm, fangs scraping against her own flesh with every whimper of the goddess's name. Maurelin's heated breath brushed through her hair, teased her ear as he leaned to whisper smoldering words.

“How would you end this performance of ours?” he panted, clearly close to his own end. Neither of them could keep such a mad pace for long, least of all when trying even the minimum to remain unexposed.

“Take me claim me _breed me_!” Primal urges poured the words from her lips in a maddened hiss and Maurelin snarled in raw joy at them, sheathing his cock all the way inside her ravaged sex over and over. Throat burning with every breath Tahla babbled, his name, Menphina's name, more filthy pleas that ended when her climax fell upon her. Only Maurelin kept her upright, her legs trying to buckle as she whimpered a note of pure ecstasy and coated his shaft in a tide of her juices. Groaning as her walls gripped him like a vice, the duskwight lasted only a few thrusts longer before he granted her wish. Warm seed shot into her depths, thick and potent, soothing her crazed need while Maurelin's thrusts slowed to a halt. Husky breath brushed on her skin and he too shook, overcome by the weight of his exertions catching up to him combined with the raw intensity of his own orgasm.

They both collapsed to the stone, gasps of pain sounding when tired bodies hit hard rough ground. They lay trembling side by side in naught but their shirts, Maurelin's softening manhood painted in the mixing of their releases, his thick cum oozing through her labia to run obscenely into her coarse bush. Their chests heaved while amber and red eyes rested on each other, lips spread in giddy grins sparked by their mutual afterglow.

Tahla reached over limply to stroke a mussed strand of hair from over his eye. Her throat burned and her voice croaked when she spoke. “Mayhap I was a little too aroused.”

His eyebrow arched incredulously. “But a _little_? Twould surprise me if tales of the miqo'te whore atop her Topmast balcony did not spread as far even as Ishgard after _that_ perfomance.”

Tahla forced a chuckle. “If I ever become famous in Ishgard, then I count it a success regardless of the reason.”

Maurelin laughed back hoarsely. “You truly are a wonder, Tahla.” Rough as his voice was, an ember of sincerity burned within his tone and she smiled warmly. Her hips ached when she tried to stand, legs still shaking from the echo of his fucking while he reached out to help and for help in even measure. Awkwardly they stood on trembling feet, abandoning their discarded bottoms beneath a clear blue sky to limp back inside with some effort.

After hours spent washing the stains of release from their skin and laying atop their bed to steady their legs, they dressed and managed the descent to Mist's streets. A tavern waited around the corner, much more cozy than the _Kraken's Lair_ and oft brimming with all manner of people.

To Tahla's mutual satisfaction and disappointment, though much gossip passed around them, somehow none of it involved a miqo'te being ravaged by an elezen on a Topmast balcony.


	3. Memento

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Nudes (or Eorzea's equivalent of such)  
> Very light Shadowbringers plot spoilers

The snows of Coerthas fell thick when Asmir teleported to Foundation, shivering even with his fur thicker than normal and his robes tight around him. A weary touch of the shining aetheryte cast him across Ishgard's slowly healing structure, a squad of stonemasons passing him with a board of brick when he appeared beside the Forgotten Knight's aethernet shard. The snow ate through his boots as he trudged past the Centurio board and made his way into the warm, glad to finally escape the ever-present cold at last after a lengthy spell in the Western Highlands reinforcing Ishgardian patrols.

It had been long since he had spent so much time in Ishgard, but since Gerlind had been snatched away to this “Norvrandt”, the remaining Warriors of Light found themselves racing to make up for her absence. They wandered the length and breadth of the land, helping as they always had, as though they were humble adventurers once again without _the_ Warrior of Light to lead them. More cynically, perhaps it was her absence that saw them splinter, Tahla and Maurelin taking their old haunts in Limsa Lominsa under their wing, Kuri watching Gridania while he passed between the Shroud and Coerthas like a ball tossed from the Elder Seedseer to the Lord Speaker and back again. Mimimoru and Cocolai made newly liberated Ala Mhigo their place to stand, watching for a retaliation by the Empire that mercifully had yet to fall, Solemn Flame left to keep watch over Thanalan with Naeve's aid.

He _missed_ them, their strength, their support. It was not until they fell apart that he truly understood the strength they lent one another, be it through Hydaelyn's blessing passed to them all through Gerlind or simply because they had fought and bled until they were nothing short of family. As he descended down the wooden stairs, leaving wet bootprints in his wake, he wondered how long they would have to hold the fort until Gerlind returned.

Even once she returned, would things be the same?

Weary eyes cast their gaze across the bar, hunting for the succor of companionship with dim chance of success. One corner was darkened by a white-haired xaela in battered plate, that associate of Gerlind's from the days she had clad herself all in black and cast her shield aside. The dark knight met Asmir's gaze across the room, doubtless knowing of him but their circles too different to cross. Only the slight nod of acknowledgement passed between them, Asmir noting the xaela's young ward at his side before he moved on.

Gibrillont greeted him and received a clipped order for drink that was answered with a tankard of steaming mulled wine. Warmth spread through his veins as he downed it, not caring that it scalded on his lips in passing while he continued to look around. A few women here and there, but none of them looked amenable to his charms. A sigh stirred his drink before he drained the last of it, a raised claw summoning Gibrillont for a refill.

“So troubled?” the elezen asked as he filled the tankard.

Asmir sighed deeply. “Cold in flesh and soul.”

Gibrillont smiled. “Then you haven't drunk enough.”

“It is not _drink_ I lack,” the hrothgar muttered, though he drank deeply regardless.

The proprietor had probably already gleaned what Asmir lacked from his glances, a shrug playing over his shoulders. “I won't be of much use there, I'm afraid.”

Stormy gray eyes looked to him as Asmir put the tankard down. “Forgive my mood, it has been a taxing day. Mayhap I ought to retire.” Other business called Gibrillont away before the conversation could continue, some kind of altercation on the other side of the bar that Asmir paid little mind. He finished his tankard, fished the exact payment from his coin purse and pressed it into the hand of a barmaid.

The hrothgar retreated into the lodgings, his room cozy enough even if his bed was still a little small, just as it had been when he had first come to Ishgard chasing Gerlind's trail in the wake of the Bloody Banquet. How time circled, it seemed, for once again he chased her.

But this time she lay beyond his reach utterly.

Robes fell carelessly upon the floorboards, the hrothgar standing bare-chested as he took off his boots. Thick sandy fur lay over coppery flesh, muscles faint beneath the surface. He reached beneath the bed for something and withdrew a satchel, opening it to withdraw a small dark wooden case. A turn of a key made the door click locked.

Asmir opened the case, examining the contents. A single roll of parchment wrapped in a white ribbon. He plucked it from where it lay bound, handling it with his heart speeding up in anticipation. Carefully his claws undid the soft binding, letting him roll the parchment open across the bed.

Gerlind stared back from its surface, sketched out in her perfection. A memory etched with her as his muse the night before the Ultima Weapon was destroyed. He drank in the sketch of her with a soft groan. The full breasts that he had ravished with claw, fang and tongue while the Warrior of Light bade him continue in a voice drowned in need. Nipples hardened to peaks that he had sampled until she whined at each stroke of his rough tongue.

Just the thought made his breeches tighten uncomfortably.

Her mouth set in a sultry grin with lips parted an ilm. Eyes lidded, both of them had been naked as their nameday while he sketched and she had drunk him in with naked desire. A hand crept down to fondle at his rising member while his gaze passed down his sketch of her, over her glorious bust and ridges of chiseled muscle beneath her ribcage.

Gods, he breathed in his mind as he began to work himself in earnest.

Lower still, his mind filling in the colors his sketch neglected. Dark skin baked in the sun south of Gyr Abania, eyes a brilliant piercing blue, hair deep brown. A tangle of curls guarding her sex, a detail he had labored to recreate in ink while salivating over the thought of tasting her treasure again. Her womanhood itself spread with fingers so that he could etch every detail of her onto parchment.

Even as he stroked himself, he remembered her asking.

“ _You said you were an artist?” The Warrior of Light sat up beside him, fingers toying at her tunic, wine on her breath and his. “Draw me?”_

_He gaped in shock. “Pardon?”_

_Gerlind laughed. “I always wished to model for an artist.” A wicked grin took her lips. “Especially naked as my nameday.”_

“ _B-but you are the Warrior of Light!”_

“ _Oh, yes, a devout and chaste maiden,” she purred. “So the tales say. But reality is quick to disappoint, or perhaps in this case, please?” The tunic slid up, toned stomach coming into view. “Surely it is not often an artist may have the Warrior of Light as their model?”_

_He shook his head. “No, I suppose not. Very well.”_

“ _Excellent,” Gerlind said, and the tunic was on the floor in an instant._

_Dry-mouthed the hrothgar nodded and scrambled for parchment._

He unlaced his breeches eagerly, the sketch making his memories of that night return in earnest. Roughly he shoved down breeches and smallclothes in one motion, letting his cock rise free to be grasped firmly. A layer of sandy fur wrapped around it like an actual lion's, another bestial echo she had accepted openly. Careful with his claws Asmir peeled the sheath back to bare the head with a whimper of need, picturing her in his mind's eye with the parchment as his reference.

“Gerlind...” he breathed as he stroked himself, knees falling to rest on the bed as though she actually lay before him. Claws scraped on the floorboards but a lusty haze took hold of him, desperate for release. It had been too long, far too long, far too cold. Hungry eyes traced her curves on the paper as he rocked his hips, hand tightening around his rock hard shaft. Masturbation was a rare release for him, normally he sated the heat of desire by bedding women. But not this time.

He closed his eyes as he left his cock be for a moment, rubbing at his balls and remembering how she nipped and sucked. That sigh of satisfaction when she breathed his musk followed by licks that made him throb for her, slowly rising back to worship his erect manhood. He traced her course with his hand, stroking himself faster as he groaned her name.

Her eyes stared up from the parchment when he looked again, wanting, begging, _demanding_ him, and he could never refuse her. He rutted into his own grip, head falling back while he imagined her fingers tugging him toward release.

Asmir's gaze turned to those gorgeous breasts. She had knelt for him, let him rub his cock against them and smear them with his juices until her skin glistened. Oh gods just the memory made him ache, cock painfully hard as he pleasured himself faster still. Her lips beckoned just as they had that night, drawing him in to engulf his manhood until he brushed the back of her throat. Her eyes had blazed with a fiery hunger while she devoured him over and over, making him climax for the first time in her mouth.

He nearly reached his peak then but forced himself to slow, to draw it out. He growled her name when he stroked languidly, looking back down the sketch to her nestled slit. His tongue slipped out like she was perched over his face, ready to receive the licks that had made her wail over and over so loud the others must have surely heard even in the throes of their own passions. Oh the taste of her, the scent of her, both so etched in his memory that it was like he could smell her even when she was lost on another plane.

Desperately the hrothgar worked himself, eyes fixated on her cunt. He lost himself in the memory of her sodden petals, her hardened clit, the depths of her that his tongue explored until at last she made to ride his cock. His hand clenched tight, trying to recapture the feeling of her, the heat, the tightness, and though he would never achieve it memory filled the gap as best it could. He panted her name with every stroke and buck of his hips, his finish so close at hand yet so distant. The bed creaked as he thrust harder into his own grip, eyes fixed on the image of his beloved Warrior of Light, every ilm of her.

How he wished she were there, that he was buried inside her ready to fill her with his seed, to mark her with a scrape of his fangs. Husky breaths tore from his throat, his body shaking as his climax loomed and this time he did not resist, only making sure to sweep the precious memento of her out of harm's way. His hand worked furiously, hips slapping on hers in his memory, her moans and cries ringing in his mind as he throbbed.

A thick spurt of seed stained the bedding, heralded by a deep moan from his throat. He kept going like he would if it were her, teasing out every pent-up drop as though filling her soaking cunt with his release rather than spending it upon his bed in desperate longing. “Gerlind,” he gasped in a prayer, lust mixed with love mixed with fear mixed with a wish, marked in his release until he came to a stop. The last drops of milky white fell to stain the sheets as Asmir panted, cock softening slowly in his grasp and slipping back within its sheath.

He knew that night had been a lapse, a flight of fancy spurred by alcohol and the rush of victory. She had told him as much when she gave him the sketch, after all.

“ _Here.” She passed the sketch to him after careful examination._

“ _Do you not wish to keep it?”_

_Gerlind smiled. “An artist's work is their own property. I was but the muse, Asmir. I would rather it stayed for your eyes only, of course, and should your charm fail you in the future and you find yourself lacking companionship... well, mayhap it can be a memento of the night we shared to help sate your needs, should you wish.”_

_He nodded. “One night?”_

“ _One night,” the paladin agreed as she began to dress. “I care for you. All of you. But not in that way, Asmir.”_

_The hrothgar gave a slow stoic nod. “I understand and I agree.” He dressed too, an awkward silence lingering until he looked at her again to find her garbed all in her splendor. “May you find one who cares for you so one day, Gerlind.”_

A sweep of magic cleansed the stains of his release from bed and flesh, erasing an upcoming scolding from Gibrillont in the process. The hrothgar carefully took the parchment, wrapping it back into a scroll and binding it with the ribbon. A memento of the night they shared, of her.

All he had for the time being, bizarre as that was. A nude sketch of the hallowed Warrior of Light. He smiled despite himself, certain that she would laugh uproariously at that strange situation. Stoic as she oft was, there was a keen spark of mischief beneath that noble exterior, and surely that ridiculous situation would bring the spark to the forefront just as it had been that night.

He carefully laid it back inside the box, thinking of her without the haze of lust as he dressed again. He wondered what she had found in Norvrandt, what strange monsters she fought, what allies joined their blades to her cause. Would that he and the others could join her in that quest, but for them to traverse the rift seemed impossible without the magic that had pulled her across.

Asmir slid the box back beneath his bed and stood, resolve redoubled by his reflection. Strange as it was, losing himself in his memento of her left his focus sharpened in the aftermath. Mayhap it reminded him of who they all fought for.

Mayhap she laughed at him across the rift and sent that pixie to slap sense into his head while he was occupied.

Gibrillont greeted him with a smile when he returned to the bar. “You look refreshed, my friend,” the elezen said with a wry smile.

“Your mulled wine has worked its magic as ever,” Asmir chuckled. “I return to my duty.”

“I suspect more than the wine has soothed your weariness,” the proprietor answered with a sharp edge, but then he bowed his head briefly. “Though I am glad to see you restored either way.”

Asmir bade him farewell and made his way back into the snow and the wind. Somehow the cold seemed lessened, like a fire burned inside him. Though the sketch lay in its case once again, the memento of her stayed fresh, restoring his purpose, renewing his will. The weariness would return, he knew, but there was a land to protect, people to save.

A home to safeguard that she might one day walk back through its door.


	4. Throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Face-sitting  
> Stormblood spoilers

Cheer had returned to Doma.

The castle lay in flooded ruin, the xaela tearing Garlean warmachina from the heavens atop their winged steeds and dashing their forces on the earth. The Liberation Front had fought through enemy ranks with the fervor of long-boiled fury and the undeniable presence of their beloved prince. And at the forefront, Gerlind Stern, the Warrior of Light and new khagun of the steppe, had drove into the heart of the castle and seen the end of the tyrant Yotsuyu, bittersweet as her fall had proven to be.

Tents had been hastily pitched in relatively safe fields to accommodate those who could not yet reach their homes. Fires burned with the triumphant singing and drinking around them as dusk closed in. Cups of sake were emptied and refilled rapidly, giving rise to impromptu drunken song.

Though many of the xaela had begun the journey back to the steppe with their khagun's will done, some lingered. Mayhap they wished to see that victory was secure, mayhap they wished to share in the festivities

Mayhap, as Zansei Malaguld did, they had found a reason to leave the Azim Steppe.

Twin cups of sake clapped and were drunk as they sat outside his tent, some way from the main part of the host. Firelight washed over him in his fur and leather, staining tanned skin and white scale with hues of orange just as it did the same for the russet-haired singer who drank with him. Two raen, both exiles from Hingashi, both embraced by strange cultures, he by the Malaguld who offered shelter to the dispossessed raen, and she by far Eorzea and a forested city named Gridania that he wished to see just from her faintest descriptions of it.

Kuri Yumishi smiled at him over the rim of her cup before draining her fourth round of sake. She had dispensed with the bloodied kimono she had worn into the fray, clad now in a fresh one of white cloth that the firelight stained too. Her katana lay in its sheath beside his spear a short distance away, close if needed but otherwise forgotten for now, their duty done.

“Oho,” Zansei teased. “I may have presumed too much.”

The samurai chuckled in that voice like song. “Thinking me a lightweight was certainly a mistake.” She poured herself another cup and watched him drain his own with the fire's gleam in her golden eyes. His own glared a challenge back in oak brown rimmed by silvery white. In the distance Prince Hien's voice faintly rang over the wind, a speech he could not make out.

“Are you certain, songbird?” Zansei replied, letting a smirk play across thin lips between curved horns. Her own grin answered and his heart jumped. How he wished he had not fought against her in the Naadam, though of course his khan had bid it and he was bound to obey, a Malaguld in name if not in blood. How fortunate then that the Garlean oaf had seen fit to give them an excuse to fight with common cause, his spear supporting her blade in slaying machina and soldiers alike.

Kuri took another drink, her cheeks flushed like his beneath the fins of her horns. Was that the sake coming home to roost? His gray yol swooped down out of the sky, its passage making the fire flicker and Kuri's hair flow like water in the air. The great bird landed with a heavy thump and settled beside the tent, beak ripping at whatever morsel it had plucked from the Doman countryside while they watched for a moment.

Zansei's gaze turned back to Kuri while she watched the bird tear bloody chunks of meat and crack bones. With her head turned he saw her neck between her horns and the collar of her kimono, the flickering flames casting their glow on her tan skin. Russet strands of fine hair flowed down to her shoulder blades gracefully. He yearned in every way to honor her, to touch her in every way that would please her and make her sing a song only he might hear. Would that he could have found a way to cast Magnai from the Dawn Throne only to seat her upon it like the royalty she was to his eyes.

The samurai slowly looked back at him with a smile on her full lips. Her kimono had slipped a little in her turn, the merest hint of collarbone showing as she finished the cup and reached for the bottle.

“You did not tell me your count,” Zansei said as she poured.

“My count?” Even when she questioned her voice was soft and sweet, like balm for his hearing.

“How many foes did your blade lay low?” the raen asked, taking the bottle from her. Their fingers brushed in passing and he shivered at the sensation, pouring himself another cup before setting the sake down between them.

“Twas not something I kept count of,” Kuri sighed before sipping. “Naeve might have, mayhap. Garlemald is a bitter foe for her.” She considered, swirling her drink in her cup with pursued lips. “Did you count?”

“Aye,” Zansei nodded. “A half-dozen of their metal birds plucked from the heavens.”

She chuckled. “Do I credit _you_ with that or should your yol rightly take the honor?”

“A fair play, though I argue it was my guidance that secured the kills,” he protested, laughing into his sake as he drained the cup. They both were very much red-faced, drunk on victory before they had even so much as laid a hand on the bottle. She finished her cup with him, their smoldering eyes locked across the ground before they both reached out.

At first maybe they both meant to take the bottle and pour the next round, but instead their hands met beside it. She threaded her fingers into his, looking at him with warm bright eyes as her fingertips brushed on his scales. One of her companions had said that in their lands the sun deity was a woman named Azeyma, and looking upon Kuri he found himself wondering if not only had they the right of it and the xaela the wrong, but that she had chosen to come before _him_ of all the world's people.

“The bottle is not yet finished,” Kuri said with a playful lilt.

“I would sate a different thirst,” Zansei smirked back, his desire blazing in his voice. She caught it, eyes alight, and it was she who fell upon him. Their cups fell forgotten as he let himself fall before her, running his hands over her slight frame, feeling the patches where skin gave way to scale through her kimono. Her tail swayed above her as they tasted each other, her sweet lips sharpened by the lingering sake. Horns scraped roughly as the kisses grew fiercer, her boldness welcome as her fingers played on his scaly shoulder and traced the lines of muscle.

“In the tent?” she breathed in a brief lull. He was almost tempted by the delicious fantasy of laying her bare and worshiping her under the night sky, but even drunk on her and sake he conceded the tent a wiser course. A nod made her hesitantly crawl back, her kimono more disheveled from their passionate embrace but still shielding her petite body from his eyes.

Not for much longer if his intentions won out.

She led him beneath the canopy and they knelt, Zansei leaning down so that they could be face-to-face in their haven. This time it was he who kissed her, brushing sake-stained lips together before he moved to praise skin and scale. He ran a line over her jaw, feeling rough scales beneath his mouth as he pressed a deep kiss into the hollow of her throat. Kuri shivered as his breath ghosted at the line between bare skin and kimono, gentle hands finding his exposed skin to madden him with her touch. His tail lashed across the blankets as she stroked, her breath smelling of fruit as it brushed on his face.

Zansei could not help but groan into her collarbone, aching with how hard he yearned for her. Already he could feel his hardness rising, but he would see to her need before his own. His hands rested on her thighs then slowly ran up her body, stopping at her thin obi.

“May I?” he asked, drawing back to receive her nod. Slowly he undid the bow and let the obi fall from her waist. Slowly the kimono peeled open a little, the top of her cleavage coming into view, then she pulled it open fully. Beneath she wore only a plain band around her large breasts and red panties that widened his grin to behold. Scales wrapped up her hips and down supple thighs, painting the edges of her belly. He drank her in like the finest wine, perfection made manifest before his eyes. He longed to please her in every way, fulfill her every wish, see her made khatun of all the world, but above all he wished to make her sing the song of pleasure.

Zansei returned to where he had left off, wrapping his lips over her collarbone and sucking on it. Kuri whimpered at his touch even as he rubbed his hands up and down her sides, teasing at the edge of her bust every time he passed. She shrugged to let the kimono slip down her arms and bare toned shoulders, and in turn he seized the opening to kiss along her throat over to one. A sheath of scales adorned her arm like natural armor and he followed it down as Kuri dispensed of her gown entirely, sliding it off of her tail. Left in just her smallclothes she let him kiss down to her hand.

“Do you think me nobility?” she asked with a giddy laugh. He grinned back.

“I would make you such were it within my power,” he promised in a kiss between collarbone and breast. “I would seat you upon the Dawn Throne.” A lower kiss, brushing the edge of the band as she gasped. “I would crown you ruler of any domain you wished for.” His hand gently slipped the band down and her breasts lay beneath his longing eyes, full and firm with wide brown areola around still soft nipples. Scales ran over their sides and beneath like half a bra, only accentuating their beauty to his gaze.

“All I wish for is you,” Kuri answered in a husky voice. “All I want is you.”

“Then me you shall have, songbird,” Zansei purred and his lips touched her breast. He relished in them with kisses and suckles, using his mouth alone to make her sing in whimpers, whines and moans. His name passed her lips and he throbbed with desire at the sound he had so yearned to hear since the day they met. His tongue passed over her nipple, raising it to a hard peak as Kuri's fingers brushed through his hair, tracing the red lines dyed in the black. Her touch was like spurs for a horse, driving his ministrations to a faster pace that left the gorgeous woman in his hands trembling and her tail sliding in a frenzy over the blankets.

“Oh, Zansei,” she panted, crying out as he suckled the hardened nipple at last. “Oh, by the gods yes-!”

“Sing, my love,” he breathed into the valley of her bust, and when he laid his mouth into it she gave him a chorus of passionate cries. His horns brushed her belly and he was quick to adjust for fear of cutting her on their points, but he left only white grazes in her flesh. Kisses and licks played over her skin and up her second mound, finding an unhardened nipple to tease into a twin of the first as one hand came to care for the abandoned breast. Her strokes of his hair grew faster, pressing him hard to her chest as she sought the pleasure he so longed to give, and he answered her wish with hard suckles. Long notes of joy rang from her throat, head falling back and leaving russet strands cascaded on her shoulders. His fingertips ran over scales as he rolled a thumb over her nipple, trying to communicate the depths of his longing by touch alone.

Kuri whimpered, hands falling to his shoulders and gripping them tightly as he worshiped her breasts. “Zansei, please...” He stopped to let her catch her breath, her panting warm on his face as she recovered. “Will you be my throne?” There was a playful gleam in her eyes that made his blood run hot.

“In what way do you wish, songbird?” he whispered, a hungry grin spreading his lips.

Kuri paused as though pondering. “I would have you taste of me while I sit atop you.” Much as he ached for her and her suggestion made his heart pound faster, he was not blind to the difficulty his horns would pose that act. By fortune they were not so large as the horns of most auri men, but even so the danger of goring your lover during the act was a lesson all auri soon learned once they came of age. Even so, her wish was his command.

“As you bid,” he whispered. He disrobed, sure she wished to see him by the hunger in her gaze. Her eyes roamed his tattooed chest, taking in toned muscle coated in his pale scales with a look of want that he treasured more than any gold in the world, while she tugged the breast band up over her head and let it fall with the kimono. The lithe woman stood hunched over to slide her dampened panties down scaled legs as Zansei carefully lay on his back, wearing only smalls that strained against the bulge of his cock. He longed to touch himself or to bid her touch him, but still he wanted to sate her needs before his own.

His divine songbird stood nude as her nameday, her wet lips shielded by scales where the women of other races would have coarse hair. As she carefully moved to sit her throne atop his face, her folds parted enough to bare slick pink flesh, dripping with her need for him. He had had other women, relished in them and filled their bellies with his seed, but staring into Kuri's sex Zansei felt they all paled in comparison to her.

She maneuvered onto him, shins resting on the blankets, thighs angling so that the base of her rump lay against the bone of his horns and her tail caressing his chest with its strokes. Her sodden lips touched his face, her nectar staining his skin and just that contact was enough to make Kuri moan his name. Eagerly Zansei kissed along her unfolding slit, each touch eliciting another sweet sound from the woman who sat atop him with her hands resting on his chest. His hands came to hold her rump, gently caressing and kneading as he slid his tongue into her petals and traced through them.

“Zanseiiii!” Kuri wailed, rocking atop him, body leaning forward to angle ahead of his horn points. The taste of her filled his mouth, a bitter and spicy tang that he nonetheless craved more of, burying his tongue as deep into her as he could and running it over her walls. The samurai gasped the melody of sex note by note in time with his touches, his nose brushing into her as she writhed and wetting his scales in her need. Her scent consumed him, driving him closer and closer to passionate madness. She was as intoxicating as the sake, more so even, lighting his heart on fire and making him burn in his lust for her. One hand left his chest, likely to play at her breasts and tease her closer to orgasm.

He could not see anything of her except the scales around her groin, those delicious folds, and the occasional glimpse of her enraptured face and full breasts when a particularly well-aimed kiss or lick made her whole body buck atop him. But her scent, her taste, her sound all flooded his senses, his world reduced to Kuri and Kuri alone as she sang the melody of _them_ , whines and gasps as notes, wailed names as chords. He moaned her name into her core and she whimpered, his breath across her slick petals driving her closer toward her end. Unable to resist his own urges Zansei's hand came to his throbbing erection, palming it only to soothe his ache rather than seek release before she had had hers.

“Zansei, close so close,” Kuri panted. “Please, please, oh _by Azeyma_ -” Words became a cry of pure passion and ecstasy, her hips bucking as he suckled at her pearl and gently groped her rear. “Taste me Zansei, taste me!” His tongue buried deep again, coiling across her walls as she wailed to the canopy and beyond. The yol shifted outside, disturbed by her cries, but Zansei could only pay it the slightest mind before those cries flowed into a single continuous note.

Juices splashed onto his face from within her, her release hitting hard enough that her thighs trembled beside his face and brushed against his horns. He was sure that _someone_ in the camp heard her ecstatic scream of orgasm, but he continued to lap at her honey, delighting in bringing her to her climax and savoring the delicious taste of her sex. Her tail thrashed up and down to slap on his chest, only exciting him further.

She crashed back down from her peak panting for breath, dismounting him shakily and collapsing on her side atop the blankets. Those glorious breasts heaved as her chest rose and fell, a wide grin on her lips as she looked at him with brilliant eyes. In her afterglow she seemed more radiant than before, a goddess in flesh, and he was her throne, her love. His face was still slick with her juices and she soon remedied that with kisses to his lips and licks over his skin, the Malaguld groaning at her wonderful touch.

“Was it to your liking, songbird?” he asked as she licked at her lips, sampling her own taste with a mischievous chuckle.

“Very much,” Kuri sighed joyfully. “But I have left you neglected.” She eyed his bulging smalls with a teasing grin.

“I would be honored by your touch,” Zansei teased. She chuckled and reached for him, his eyes running over her gorgeous body with a sigh of satisfaction. How perfect she was. She deserved to sit the throne of the world in his eyes.

Yet the only throne she asked for was him, and the thought made him burn with love. Outside his yol settled, the fire died down, and the celebrations of Doma's liberation continued. But the two lovers paid none of that any heed, letting their world consist solely of one another long into the night.


	5. Dangerous Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Public Sex, Teasing  
> Minor Marauder and Warrior questline spoilers

The beach of Costa del Sol spread before them, bathed in hazy sunlight with Moonfire Faire dragging lazily by. Indeed, revelers cavorted over to the island nearby in their droves. Surely Gegeruju's staff were making a killing from the occasion, Maurelin thought dryly from where he stood on the sand. His feet dug in, grains almost hot enough against his skin to burn and the sun blazing on his shoulders. The marauder, nay, _warrior_ now stood only in tight black shorts, and Tahla's gaze was like a second sun on his skin.

“I thought you said you had somewhere _secluded_ to take us,” the keeper pouted at him, eyes rising not higher than his chest. Maurelin grinned as he took her in, almost all of her dark skin laid bare save for a strapless blue bikini that hugged her figure delightfully.

“Do you not believe me?”

“Not when all Eorzea flocks to the beach for Moonfire Faire,” Tahla replied with a sweeping gesture toward the crowds on the island and those revelers who cavorted on the shore near them.

“Ah, but follow me and be amazed,” the duskwight grinned, leading her over the burning sand. They ducked through crowds, receiving claps and greetings from those who recognized them, answering in passing waves and short responses. This newfound attention ever since Tahla had contributed to Ifrit's defeat was something he still found himself growing used to. Perhaps he was a touch jealous, even slaying a scourge like Kujata seemed to pale in the face of her facing the primal of flames and living to tell the tale, but he had seen too keenly how the ordeal had shaken her to express bitterness.

She had not asked for the weight of the realm when she answered the paladin's call for aid, yet it had fallen on her regardless. All he could do was help shoulder the burden in what ways he could, fighting at her side, laying beside her at night, satisfying her needs as he had done before their world turned upside down.

They left the crowds behind in their journey across the sand, passing the spot he remembered first encountering Curious Gorge. Colibri fluttered nearby, eyeing the pair curiously but leaving them be as they rounded the cliff face to find the path branched, one side climbing up the slope, the other heading into an opening in the rock.

“A cave?” Tahla asked incredulously.

Maurelin laughed. “Yes, I thought I might share with you my childhood comforts,” he deadpanned. She swatted at his shoulder, an amused grin playing over her lips despite her best efforts to bristle and feign annoyance.

“Your childhood comforts look rather spartan and sandy,” the iron-furred miqo'te teased as she peeked deeper in. Much as they had called it a cave, its roof was open to the sky, a few palm trees thriving improbably within the crevasse.

“That does sound rather like my childhood,” the duskwight remarked. “A lot of toil and judging eyes.”

The pressure of Tahla's eyes left his body. “Forgive me,” she said, soft and sincere.

“Forgiven,” he said, finger lifting her chin to let her see him smile. “Now, come. Our seclusion lies beyond.” They walked together through the passage, the sun's merciless heat blocked by the rock around them as they passed under the palms. Water glistened on the other side as they drew close, a thriving stream running down past the sands to join with the ocean on the right. And there was the sound, a great roaring that bounced off the walls to reverberate within the crevasse.

“A waterfall?” Tahla guessed.

Maurelin grinned. “Aye. Hidden Falls.” He swept his arm dramatically as they emerged by the riverside. Part of him had feared that Curious Gorge would _still_ be there, swinging his axe at the waterfall in that bizarre manner, but fortunately it seemed the roegadyn had found another place to occupy his time since their last meeting. A half-circle of raised rock formed a bowl for the fall to splash into, the open lip allowing the stream to run down beneath raised platforms like those they had left behind them and meet the waves at the shore. Maurelin cast a glance over the structures, finding deckchairs and parasols but, gods be praised, no people.

“Secluded indeed, for now at least,” Tahla purred, and she stepped into the stream. “Though not _that_ well “hidden”.”

“You spoil the mystique and allure with your nitpicking, Tahla,” he said teasingly as she reached out to him, letting the miqo'te tug him in with her. Immediately his feet rejoiced in relief from the heat of the sand, cool stones pressing on his soles instead, the sun's glare returning as they splashed up toward the waterfall. The water came to her thighs and his knees, flowing strongly over their skin as they drew closer to where the water tumbled down from the cliff above.

“I was promised seclusion, so I thought you had something _special_ in mind,” the keeper purred, her tail rubbing on his chest suggestively. His grin widened, teeth bared as she glanced over her shoulder to gauge his reaction.

“Now whoever I said I had no plan?” Maurelin hissed, pressing against her, her tail trapped between his chest and her back as his breath brushed on her neck. He bowed his knees a little so his hips pressed to her rump and the miqo'te purred approvingly.

“How _forward_ of you, Maurelin,” she breathed. He burned a kiss on the side of her throat and pressed his hand to her thigh, fingertips teasing at the edge of her bikini as he squeezed her luscious skin.

“You seemed to so like the risk when I took you on the balcony,” the duskwight growled into her ear, taking its point between his lips to tease out a shiver before continuing. “I hear that a very special guest comes to Costa del Sol to make arrangements with Master Gegeruju.”

“Is that so?”

“I hear that this spot is where that special guest comes to do his dealings,” he continued, tongue running up her ear. Tahla whimpered, her hands finding his hips and gripping tight. “Sadly I could not find out _when_ the man is expected, so for all I know he may walk by at any moment. Or the guards may come to see that his accommodations are prepared.”

“What trouble we shall be in if they should stumble upon us,” Tahla grinned. He put his other hand on her side, traced the scar of Ifrit's claw on her belly as he buried his face in her hair and breathed her scent deep. Her rear ground on him, teasing his cock through the shorts, dragging his blood to its length.

“If the risk is too _great_ for you, we may find-” before that bit of mockery could finish his hands were knocked aside by her turn and her face was in his neck, one of her hands coming to his rising manhood and wrapping her fingers around it. Fangs brushed his skin and he moaned, finding the places he knew would drive her into a frenzy. A thumb rubbed on the base of her tail while the fingers dug into her rump, the other hand pulling at the tie of her bikini top.

“Surely you know better than to think _risk_ will deter me?” the keeper growled before sucking on his skin, hand eagerly working him.

“Oh, of course,” Maurelin chuckled, a moan escaping him at its end. “I learned very well just how _wet_ that risk makes you.” Apparently satisfied with his cock's growth she tugged at his shorts, swiftly pulling them down until his length sprang hard to brush against her stomach. Conscious of the less pleasurable risk of having to walk back in the nude he reached down to take his smalls from around his ankles and made her walk with him to the rocks. Carelessly the garment was flung behind the stone, his efforts returning to Tahla's bikini knot as her hand worked at his shaft.

“Struggling, Maurelin?” she teased as it slid down all the way, eliciting a groan from him. Her fingers squeezed tight, utterly divine as she stroked him.

“Not at all,” he deadpanned in answer, working the knot undone. Tahla's arms clenched to her sides before the bikini could fall away, a wicked smirk on her lips bringing her fangs into view. How he _loved_ working her up like this and the risk of being caught in the act only seemed to push her boundaries to the extreme, her cheeks flushing red, tongue playing across her lips obscenely. In turn she toyed with him, keeping the bikini trapped on her chest and her glorious breasts concealed.

She kept stroking him, awkward as it was with her arms so locked, and he bucked into her grip with a groan of her name.

Her free hand came to brush on the peak of her nipple, already pebbled and stark through the fabric. “Is this what you seek?” the keeper purred. Her head craned down and her tongue slid slowly to lick at the top of her tit. His cock throbbed at the sight, the wetness left in her wake glistening in the sun.

“Gods, Tahla,” he snarled, hands coming down to grip her below the shoulders. Her eyes blazed as she licked again, she was certainly winding him up like a clockwork toy and how they both _longed_ to come undone. He pulled her arms and she put up the merest resistance, enough to see him pent up further as the top finally fell away. She plucked it from the water and tossed it with his shorts before pushing up her bust with forearm beneath, rubbing fingers over her nipple and sighing in delight. Slowly she knelt into the water until it touched her breasts, staring at his throbbing cock with eager eyes and running her tongue over her lips. Her tail lashed in excitement, sending droplets cascading with each swing.

“What a sight Master Gegeruju's guest would have should he walk past just now,” she hissed, breath playing on his bulging head. The duskwight had to lean back on the rock, knees trembling and the current threatening to sweep his feet out this close to the waterfall. Tahla pursued him with a predatory leer, bowing her head to his length, lapping gently over the tip until he groaned and dug his fingers into her hair. One hand pinched at her ear, rubbed it between his fingers until she purred fully and sucked on him. His seat was not the most comfortable, buttocks scraping on hard edges, but the way she devoured his length more than made up for it.

“By Menphina,” he breathed huskily, her own words in his voice. Tahla nodded approvingly, the brush of her mouth around him enough to make him whine and groan every time she took him right to the back of her throat. Suffice to say experience had taught her well, her mastery of this _venerable art_ reaching the bounds of possibility.

He almost chuckled at his own conceit.

Tahla pulled off of him, gasped for breath with spittle running down her chin, then in an instant she was back on him. How he relished her hunger, the feeling of her warm mouth on his rock hard cock, oh gods, the feeling when she took him as deep as she could.

“Does my _slut_ wish to taste my seed?” he purred, leaning down to brush his lips on her ear. Her aroused purring reverberated on his length when she nodded, edging him so close to the point of release. Eagerly he rose, hips rutting into her mouth, forcing his cock as far as he dared go. Tahla's eyes rolled back as he began to hump her face, ready to receive his load in her mouth, gods, gods-

Colibri flew startled past his vision and deep in his pleasure he took a moment to process that they had come from the crevasse. Mayhap another monster had wandered close, but then voices came loud enough to rise above the waterfall's roar.

He withdrew grudgingly but quickly from Tahla's divine lips, hand taking hers to pull her up on the rocks past the fall. Much as the risk had made his pleasure all the keener, it was the _risk_ he chased, not actually getting caught in the act. Carefully to grab his shorts and her bikini top he pulled her over and behind the stones onto cool sand, cock protesting its neglect with aching throbs. Peeking around the ridge as carefully as he could, he caught a glimpse of two men, one tall and bulky, one lithe with a tail, and a bikini-clad miqo'te woman stepping out before a turning head made him duck back into cover.

“Almost there, miss!” a keen, eager voice rang out. “Don't worry, we'll get you to your appointment safe!”

Maurelin groaned, not in frustration but as Tahla's mouth returned to his cock. He glanced down in surprise and she stared back with bright needy eyes, brushing her fangs on him while he struggled not to cry out. The waterfall was loud, true, and the knowledge that the trio were but yalms away only made his arousal sting keener, but he would rather they not be found and made the subject of gossip for the next moon if not longer.

If Tahla cared about that she certainly showed little sign of it, sucking on his shaft like a woman possessed. Giving in to need his hand came to her head and he played at her ears, teasing out moans that sent his hips bucking into her mouth once more. He could not see clearly but he was certain one of her hands had crept down to her bottoms and even now pawed at her slit, that thought only making him ache more keenly for her.

With a gasp she released him, shuffling up the sand without taking her busy fingers from where they buried themselves in her womanhood. Whimpering through a bitten lip she stared with lusting eyes, the sight dangerously close to making him tear her bikini away and fuck her with all his might, discovery be damned. He ran his hands over her body hungrily, pressing his face to her tits to suckle and nip while she buried herself in his hair. Her breath ran hot over his scalp, spurring him as he sucked hard on a nipple, Tahla's hand on his cock again.

“Looks like yer, uh, client's runnin' late.” The booming voice made Maurelin stiffen but Tahla continued regardless. “Mayhap I'rinha and I could keep you _company_ 'til he makes it?” Even occupied Maurelin caught the purr in what was doubtless a roegadyn voice, and were he not in no position to be scoffing he might have rolled his eyes at such naked lust.

He missed whatever the miqo'te's reply to her escorts was in a groan from Tahla that brushed her breath on his ear, his lover returning his earlier gesture by lapping her tongue over its point. He groaned into her cleavage, cock painfully hard and desperate to fill her, their presence so close making the two of them even more pent than before. He slipped his hand into her bottoms beside her own, grinning as he found fingers and cunt alike dripping with her need.

“Are you going to let them stop you from taking me, _brave warrior_?” Tahla hissed into his ear, scraping her fang against it until he shuddered.

“You _want_ them to catch us,” he teased as their faces came close again, nipping at her lips, teeth brushing her lower lip. She whimpered, fingers pressing his to her slit, his hand spreading her petals and sweeping across them until a high whine escaped Tahla. “Do I alone no longer sate your thirst? Perhaps you wish to try the thick cock of a roegadyn? Have you dreamed of playing a seeker with a nunh to _breed_ you? Or mayhap you want to taste of another woman?” It was all mockery, they both knew it, but it made his hips rock in aching lust and her breath become aroused panting.

“Fuck me,” she begged in a whine. He felt her hands take her bottoms down in a frenzy, one taking his cock and rubbing the head on her sodden lips as the other struggled to work her last garment off her ankles. She was about to toss it aside but Maurelin reached to take it from her, teeth holding his lip as he struggled not to throw his head back at the incredible feeling of her damp labia massaging his manhood.

“I want you all to myself, you _vixen_ ,” he hissed, lips hard on her cheek as he took his cock and scraped it up and down her slit. They shuffled so her legs spread invitingly, one atop him and one slipping beneath.

Tahla whimpered through gritted teeth. “ _Claim me_ then,” she purred huskily, eyes lidded. With a lusty grin Maurelin brought the sodden bottoms to her face and perhaps she understood already, for her eyes sparked wildly and her mouth eagerly accepted the makeshift gag. The sight of it stuffed between her lips was tinder for his already wild flame, his control slipping away as instinct drove him to do exactly as she asked.

“They shall not hear a sound of yours,” the elezen hissed as he thrust into her at last, unable to stop his own moan so he buried his mouth in her hair instead. Her walls gripped him tighter than ever it felt, as though Tahla was so pent up that her cunt sought to milk him of his seed with all its might. He snarled and groaned as he slipped in and out, scraping in the sand with every hard rut. Their hips already slapped together over and over but the waterfall's roar would take care of that, he thought before the lure of her sodden core drove any thought of caution from his mind.

Through her gag Tahla cried out, his muffled name, Menphina's name, wordless moans that only made him fuck her harder. Occasionally the sound of conversation drifted over the noises of the waterfall and their sex, but there was not enough focus in him to divide it between the keeper he made rough love to and whatever the trio down the way talked about. Tahla's legs gripped him like a vice, inviting him into the deepest reaches of her sex and he gladly accepted, driving his cock into her spot until she buried her gagged mouth in his neck to _scream_.

“Better than any nunh or roegadyn, I hope,” he growled into her ear, nipping at its point as she whined her agreement. “How _sodden_ you are at the thought they might find us.” Whatever she growled through the cloth he could not make out, but he certainly felt her nails rake over his back so hard that lines of pain burned in their wake. Snarling he rutted into her with all his strength, feeling her passionate cries against his neck as she pressed her sodden gag against him. Her hips bucked with his, slapping harder as they both sought the long-awaited climax.

His name came muffled and strained and hers a snarl of a whisper in the shell of her ear, the miqo'te's tail thrashing as he claimed her mercilessly. His nails dragged over her spine and Tahla marked him again, this rough desperate _fucking_ sending him into a lust-drunk haze. He only barely made out the sound of the colibri scattering in alarm, a new voice booming over the waterfall dangerously close, none of it mattering as he poured himself into filling her with his seed.

A whimper of alarm through the cloth, her whole body trembled. Tahla's eyes rolled back and she shook with her legs clamping tight as they could, a scrape of her foot on the rock sending a jolt through him as she screamed words he could not make out. Her cunt clenched tight and hot around his throbbing member and Maurelin too could hold no longer, rutting his load so deep he imagined it poured right into her stilled womb. He grunted and gasped into her ear then desperately took to suckling the tip, anything to gag his own orgasm. Again and again he thrust, so pent that even after he had emptied himself he could only slowly work down from his peak panting into her hair while she trembled in his arms.

Both heaving for breath while trying to remain quiet, they lay boneless behind their rocky shelter with their bodies still joined, her tail limp behind her. Her marks in his back stung, her fingers soothing them as best she could, she was surely too addled by the ferocity of their climax to work any magic for a good while.

“Thank you kindly for escorting her here and keeping her company while I was delayed, lads. Here, as a token of my thanks.” The chink of gil.

“It be our pleasure, Master Goldmember.” A few bootsteps. “Ye comin', I'rinha, or ye gawpin'?!” Urgent steps and a booming chuckle, their walking coming closer then growing distant again. Then laughter, a playfully scandalized chuckle, a distant door slamming.

Maurelin met Tahla's eyes as they slid open, the pair chuckling ecstatically. He slipped out of her and gazed down to watch his heavy load spill out, running slowly over her thigh to pool on the sand. Pulling her bottoms from her mouth, the miqo'te panted away in his arms contentedly.

“I shall have to thank this Curious Gorge,” she purred against his chest. “For inspiring you to grant the best fucking of my life.”

Maurelin grinned at her. “I shall pay him your compliment, my fair lady.”

“Oh, _fair lady_ now, am I?” Tahla hissed, nipping at his neck playfully. “Not a _vixen_ , or a _slut_?”

“Mmm, you did seem rather eager to let them catch us with all your wailing and screaming,” the duskwight teased. “Pray forgive me for jumping to conclusions about your tastes.”

The keeper slowly sat up to slap at his ear and glance over the rock. “The coast is clear,” she reported, but all he could think was how divine she looked with the sunlight bathing her gloriously nude body in its rays. Even the wicked scar Ifrit had torn in her side only seemed to strengthen her, a proof of her courage that made her more beautiful to his eyes. Her breasts swayed slightly as she turned back to him, one hand holding her up as she grinned down. “Oh, have I struck you dumb, Maurelin?”

“Never,” he chuckled after a moment, planting a kiss on one breast. “I was just contemplating a second round, but mayhap we ought to save that for home.”

Tahla mulled it over, running her tongue over her lip. “Shame as it is, best not to test our luck further.” Her fingers teased down through his bush, toying with his flaccid cock. A lingering drop of seed clung to her fingertip as it slowly headed to her mouth. A flick of her tongue lapped it up and Maurelin groaned.

“You teasing _whore_ ,” he growled.

“Only for you,” she purred. “Come, home _awaits_.” She gathered her bikini and dressed, standing and looking down at him with a grin that promised much.

He scrambled to chase it at full speed, only her chuckle reminding him to dress himself rather than race her back to Mist naked as his nameday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have spent an inordinate amount of time walking around Hidden Falls in-game working out the logistics of this one and taking note of the courtesan FATE dialogue only to not use the latter.


	6. Visual Sensuality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mirrors

Their faces stared back at Braya as hot breath down the nape of her neck sent shivers through her spine.

The midlander woman inspected the full-length mirror hung on her wall eagerly, tracing her own features. Freckles dotted a sun-browned face, nose off-centre where a bandit's shield had once rattled her skull. Brown hair cut short and boyish, eyes the green of ivy and plump lips stained by the berries and honey they had just shared. A brown leather jerkin hugged her bust and laid strong arms bare, cream hempen leggings tight to her legs as a clawed hand played over her thigh.

Braya's gaze wandered to the man at her back while a rough tongue scraped on her skin like a roughstone smoothing wood, her whimper eliciting a pulse of heat in her core.  _Asmir Lianasch_ , copper-skinned and sandy-furred, leonine and majestic. The conjurer wore his order's plain white robes tight around his frame, eyes lidded as he lapped that incredible tongue over her nape and teased more whines from her throat. How she had hoped for this when she offered to buy him a drink after a hard day delving into the Tam-Tara Deepcroft,  _him_ , one of those who had faced Ifrit, already a hero in the flesh.

And now he lapped at her neck with such fervor that she felt her folds wet faster and faster by the moment.

“Asmir,” she breathed, watching his tongue lash in the mirror, his hand on her thigh digging in until claws grazed skin through her leggings. Braya whimpered, eyes falling to see that great hand groping toward the inside of her legs. Again the claws pricked and she groaned, loving how he handled her, enraptured at the sight of him edging deeper into forbidden territory. His other hand played on her belly, rubbing circles over the leather while he tended to her neck. The tongue slipped to the side, his fur brushing on her hair as he buried his mouth into her hollow and took a deep breath of her.

Had he been just doing this normally she would have wanted him, undoubtedly, but the mirror only made her arousal strike harder and her sex heat quicker. As a girl approaching womanhood she had stared at her own reflection when she touched herself for the first time, seeing cheeks flush, mouth agape, eyes lid and widen. Somehow  _seeing_ herself, watching her body be played like an instrument and respond to touch make her fire blaze and her eventual climax all the sweeter.

Asmir had grinned when she asked him to take her in front of the mirror. Mayhap he shared the same lustful quirk.

“Braya,” he groaned into her neck as she worked her buttocks against his hips, trying to tease out the cock that had yet to harden. The hand on her belly slid upward as he at last cupped the inside of her thigh, thumb tracing the line where leg met groin as his index rubbed her sex through leggings and smalls. She watched red spread over her cheeks, her head tipping back while she struggled not to roll her eyes back at his touch. The other hand took a breast through her jerkin, gently kneading at it as his lapping turned to suckling.

Braya's eyes lidded a moment then she forced them open, grinding against him with determination while the hand on her breast turned to unlacing the jerkin. The other slid down her thigh, she whimpered at the loss of his touch on her damp lips, then he slid it back up and stroked it over her leggings until her hips trembled. A glance down her reflection to where that hand worked found a growing dark spot in her clothes, surely he felt her arousal and the thought made her core throb with a fresh pulse of need. Spurred she brought her own hands to the jerkin, his falling to her side as she undid the laces in a rush. The hyur wanted, nay  _needed_ to be bare, too hot, too needy, and she longed for him to see her in her naked entirety.

The last lace came open and Asmir stepped away to let her disrobe, clawed hands slipping reluctantly from her and moving to his own robes. Braya slipped the jerkin open and down her arms, unveiling a bra of plain black while she watched his reflection untie the belt that closed his garments. White cloth tumbled down the hrothgar's own muscular arms to lay in an untidy pool on the floorboards, his chest bare past her body in the mirror. The lancer dared to glimpse back, a heady sigh on her lips as she traced muscle and fur. He was not  _chiseled_ of course, his weapon was his mind, but he was certainly a sight to behold and his bestial aspects only accentuated her desire for him.

The mirror tugged her gaze back, the allure of their reflection too great to ignore as she worked her leggings down too, craving more by the moment. Matching shorts complemented her bra, their black masking the spot of arousal she had leaked into them, but before she could admire her own figure more Asmir was upon her with his trousers gone too to leave him in bulging smalls. Claws pierced the bra to prick her skin when he took her breasts in her hands, Braya resting her head against his shoulder while watching their reflections fall together. His fingers deftly worked at her chest, kneading supple flesh while only just brushing his claws on her, rolling a nipple between finger and thumb until it stood hard for his attention.

“Ohhhh,” Braya sighed, relaxing into his grip and watching her reflected mouth part slightly. Asmir grinned over her shoulder, kissing at her hair and savoring her scent with deep breaths until she whimpered for more of his touch, earning a hard nip to the neck as the hrothgar pressed his hips to her. His cock stood firm against her, the feeling of it making her sex run hotter than before while he slipped down the cups of her bra to lay her chest bare. A pale pink nipple stood hard at the peak of each breast and he took each between finger and thumb, pinching and pulling while his kisses deepened into hard suckling on her skin that would surely leave marks.

Oh, gods, how she wanted it.

Braya's eyes were locked to their reflection, seeing red spread over her cheeks, his fingers dig marks into her breasts, and her legs slowly slip apart in anticipation of his touch or hers. It was the latter that won as his suckling and kneading finally pushed her beyond the point of holding back, a hand slipping down to rub at her sex through sodden cloth. Asmir rumbled a chuckle into her throat as she gasped and moaned, reveling in how her own touch made her mirror self tremble, gasp, rub the fingers against her folds harder.

“Do I move too slowly for yout liking?” the hrothgar purred, scraping his long fangs on her skin until she groaned, fingers finding her clit and desperately teasing. Soaked as her folds were, she felt wetter still as he nipped her skin hard enough to bruise.

“Asmir, please, I _need_ -” In an instant his hands fell from her breasts to her hips, claws catching her shorts and yanking them down. Her reflection's eyes widened, mouth wide to moan as cool air caressed her dripping labia, her spread slit nestling in brown curls. Asmir looked her up and down with a widening grin.

“Delicious,” he whispered huskily. “Come, Braya. On your knees.” Obligingly she sank as his hands pressed her shoulders, taking the opportunity to dispense of her bra and leave herself utterly bare to his lustful eyes. Their gleam only made thrills tease along her nerves, her own gaze finding his hands as they slipped down his smalls. Obligingly the hrothgar stepped to one side so that his revealed member showed in the mirror, the head already bulbous and flushed red, the sheath from which it rose coated in his glorious fur as were his heavy balls. Braya groaned at the sight of his cock, running her tongue over her lips seductively, but rather than make her take his length in her mouth as she anticipated he instead stepped back behind her.

“Asmirrrr,” she whined, then his hands took her shoulders and he was bending her over. Understanding she let herself fall to all fours with her hands and knees on the floorboards, raising her rump to his gaze and shaking it with a sultry grin at her reflection. His laughter purred from above her, the hrothgar palming his cock with a soft growl before he stepped back to sink to her level. Claws took her rear and pricked at the skin until she wailed in pain and pleasure both, his bestial treatment of her sating desires she had not even realized burned within her.

“If you are so damp already then we must needs make haste,” the hrothgar teased, head descending until that tantalizing breath stroked at her sex. Closer and closer he drew, was he-

The roughstone tongue scraped over her lips and Braya wailed. “Oh, Asmir, yes!” Her eyes were wide and bright with desire, her tongue on her lip as she panted with every stroke that probed her cunt. The hrothgar tasted of her like her folds dripped with the honey he so loved, every nook and cranny of her most intimate place explored by that wondrous tongue of his. All the while her hips bucked and shook, knees aching where they knocked on the floorboards and her throat ever sounding her pleasure for him to hear. “Oh, deeper! Deeper!” The tongue slid as far in as it could, scraping her walls until she squealed for him. One of his hands brushed its fur on her side, questing up her body to take her breast and stimulate her further, a move that she swore would send her tumbling into her climax with all speed. No past lover had treated her so, indulged her own particular fetish while simultaneously making her realize things about her own desires she might never have found alone.

His tongue turned to her clit, circling it so that wonderful roughness wrapped her pearl and made her whole body pulse with waves of purest ecstasy. The midlander shrieked at her reflection, the sight of herself so feral and undone driving her to keep herself up with one hand so the other could grope at the breast Asmir neglected. Oh, Nophica, Twelve, she wanted to cum on his divine tongue and let him lap down her nectar until he had had his fill and more.

The hrothgar scraped his tongue across her clit until she wailed, then fast as levin, _faster_ he flowed up her body. His hands took her shoulders and leaned on her, lightly at first to make her groping hand fall back to the floorboards before he made her take the weight of his upper body on hers. His claws brushed against her skin as he shifted into position, mounting her like a beast with his mouth wide and hunry.

“Oh, _gods_ ,” Braya whimpered as his throbbing head brushed on her folds. “By the Twelve, Asmir...”

“I certainly hope they sit up and take notice,” the hrothgar purred. “Look at yourself.” She was, mouth hanging open as she panted in naked lust, eyes yearning for the moment he took her as his own. All she knew of him told her this would likely be the one time he did so, his eyes were known to oft wander and she had seen him take notice of both her blonde viera guildmate and the russet-haired archer from the far east. Settling for a single mate, it seemed, was not Asmir's way.

But _tonight_ he was _hers_.

His cock parted her lips, slid inside in a single thrust and Braya's mind went blank in a tidal wave of sensations, the pleasure of it scraping on her walls, the ache of just how _thick_ it was, the pain of his claws digging in ready to rut her. Asmir purred contentedly as he filled her to the brim, a growl tearing from his lips as he slid back out and thrust again. Wide-eyed Braya watched their mirror images rut like beasts, watched her own mouth drip with spittle and twist as she wailed and screamed. The air grew thick with the heady scent of sex, her skin glistening in the lamplight as she sweated both from the exertion of being taken so fiercely and her own arousal like a furnace at her core.

“Asmir-” she mewled before his next thrust winded her, his pants heavy and warm on her hair as he drove into her harder and harder. Hips clapped against buttocks, his balls brushing on her wetness every time he took her all the way to the hilt and ripped more mewls and whines from her agape mouth. She followed the flow of his muscles in their reflection, whimpering in raw need at the sight of her own sex-drunken face. “Gods gods gods gods _gods_ -” she panted in desperation, her arms struggling to keep her up until finally she was forced to collapse onto her elbows. Her rear now stood visible in the glass above her head, savaged by the furious motion of Asmir's hips and cock. His hands moved to clutch her own hips as leverage, undeterred by her fall he merely continued on their course with his own groans of pleasure loud in her ears.

“Braya, oh Braya,” he groaned huskily. “You drive me _mad_.”

“Yes!” she cried as he drilled into her spot thrice in rapid succession, forced to bury her head against her forearm and wail. “Oh Asmir, inside me, _please_!” She did not know whether he would have paid that matter any heed had she not spoken, or even if she had begged otherwise.

Somehow the thought of being bred roughly against her will made her already abused sex throb and ache again, and that was the final touch to knock the floodgates open.

Braya's head snapped up to take in her reflection again, feeling him take her to the hilt and her walls clamp tight on his throbbing member. Muscles rippled, limbs trembled, her eyes rolling back until she could not see the mirror any longer. Wailing she let orgasm rip through her, head rocking back as her body shook. Toes scraped on the floorboards to clench like her fingers, wordless sounds of raw ecstasy singing from her raw throat while Asmir continued to take her tightened cunt without so much as slowing. The hrothgar grunted with each thrust, whining until at last he roared her name and she felt a splash of hot thick seed spurt inside her.

The pair continued their rough, bestial sex until Braya had ridden out the last vestige of her climax and Asmir had spent each and every drop of seed he had, both slowing then stopping. They panted as though they had run a marathon together, skin dripping with sweat and the room stinking of their act. Braya lay flat after her legs lost their strength and collapsed to the floor, wide eyes meeting her mirror self's own until they smiled in tandem.

“Oh gods,” she groaned breathlessly, feeling Asmir leave her sore cunt. He fell sideways on shaky legs, landing on his hip with a growl before resting on his side. His chest rose and fell rapidly and Braya could not help but watch, feeling his eyes on her own heaving breasts and grinning.

“I certainly believe I satisfied you,” the conjurer chuckled huskily. “But did the mirror contribute as you thought?”

Braya's grin widened and she looked back at her reflected self. Sitting up she took in the marks on neck and breasts, the little blood that welled where his claws had bitten her shoulders, the traces of his cum that began to drip from her sex. The woman who stared back wore a delighted, satisfied grin, her gorgeous breasts still rising and falling with every deep breath, her eyes bright from the heights of pleasure to which she had gone.

Slowly she kissed her mirror image, then turned back to the smiling hrothgar. “If I have not left you utterly spent, I would like to try more.”

Asmir chuckled. “Oh, I rather hoped you would.”

When she looked at the mirror again, her reflection wore a mischievous smirk.


	7. The Taste of Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cunnilingus  
> Arcanist questline spoilers, also implied abusive pasts

The bed creaked beneath their intertwined bodies, lips pressed in a kiss as legs scraped to make room for one another. Gray and white tails stroked their lengths together as the two parted to draw breath, hands eager on curves, eyes meeting then closing to accept another deep kiss. The taste of wine lingered on both lips as tongues stroked and searched.

Pink hair over bespectacled blue eyes in her mind, the cheeks below flushed red in her imagination.

Tahla whimpered as the kiss broke, hands cupping graceful hips as her eyes slid open again. The other woman grinned back exhilarated, bangs of white hair falling unkempt over her face to curtain narrow orange eyes, hands leaving Tahla's waist to stroke down the keeper's back

A moment of guilt hit deep and cold, even with Maurelin _knowing_ she was doing this, to be so exposed to someone other than him still sent ripples of confusion through an already turbulent sea. C'jhimei's hands came to gently stroke at the keeper of the moon's shoulders, soothing, gentle. Her hands were so _different_ from Maurelin's, of course they were, his were rough and calloused from a life of manual work and physical combat, while from what she had gleaned of their tipsy conversation in the _Drowning Wench_ the seeker of the sun was a clerk for the Yellowjackets. Her fingers were soft and elegant and-

 _Just like hers_.

The brush of fingers when she passed the grimoire to the pink-haired woman atop the tower, strange new feelings roused in her chest at the contact.

“Are you well?” C'jhimei murmured. “If you are overwhelmed, we might take a moment...” Tahla looked her up and down, both only in their smallclothes, a pale pink band around the seeker's petite breasts and lacy panties the same color below, Tahla's bra and panties plain and blue. The seeker was _cute_ , that was the only way to describe it, in a bookish way and mayhap that was what had drawn Tahla's gaze. An echo of the woman who had inspired this whole turn of events, and the color of C'jhimei's smalls only made that echo ring truer.

She remembered as the seeker gently caressed her forearms with those soft fingers. Coming to the arcanist guild when at last she and Maurelin had scraped together the gil to leave Gridania behind them, their ruined pasts and the scorn they endured for their kind remaining in the forest while they flew free, so she had said. Meeting K'lyhia, helping her about her duties as she learned more and more arcanima, she was sure now that the feelings had been seeded then, only not understood. After all, she _wanted_ Maurelin, _cherished_ Maurelin and how could she also feel so strongly for the foreseer at the same time?

C'jhimei ventured closer, a soft breath stroking at Tahla's cheek before lips followed in a soothing kiss. Tahla ran her hand slowly up the seeker's back, feeling her smallclothes in passing before her fingers slipped into flows of silky white hair.

She and Maurelin were kindred in one sense, she had reflected, united by the prejudice Gridania showed duskwights and keepers of the moon, clinging together because where else would they go? With their families torn away by the Calamity, what else was there for them other than bandits for him and the Coeurlclaw for her? But she and K'lyhia were kindred in another, she had realized after that encounter with Doesmaga on his cursed ship. Both locked in the bonds of cruel men, even if her tormentor had seen fit to wear a smile on his face while he extorted her back in that shop she wished to never set foot in again.

The white-haired seeker buried her face in Tahla's neck, gentle kisses picking at the hollow of her throat and teasing her until she purred with eyes closed.

She should have realized sooner, should have _acted_ sooner, for now with Doesmaga defeated K'lyhia was gone to seek out her guildmaster. Tahla had tried to excuse her hesitation, she had nearly _died_ fighting Ifrit, she had the whole realm looking at her upon a sudden, of _course_ she had had too much on her mind to untangle her confused feelings about the foreseer.

“You seem so distracted,” C'jhimei murmured. “Am I...?”

The keeper shook her head urgently. “No, no, C'jhimei. Just... my first time with a woman.”

The seeker smiled shyly with white teeth. Unlike Tahla she had no fangs, one of a few differences between their tribes. “I've had only a handful of times myself, it feels strange to be the experienced one for once.” She chuckled and Tahla with her, relaxing a little atop her.

Gently they kissed again, lips giving way to deepen it and let their tongues meet. C'jhimei unlaced Tahla's bra with the ease of experience, the keeper struggling to get it off her body without breaking the dance of their tongues. C'jhimei's knee came up in her passion, brushing Tahla's sex and she yelped into the other woman's mouth, the seeker's tongue going deep to explore the reaches of Tahla's own. At last the bra was worked free and tossed somewhere into C'jhimei's bedroom to expose Tahla's dusky tits, leaving her open to awkwardly tug the breast band down. C'jhimei's breasts stood perky even without its support, her nipples a delightful pink against skin pale from days spent in an office.

K'lyhia's breasts straining in the bikini top as she swayed, light skin on show as Tahla tried with all her might not to gawp. Her core growing hot and moist the more she took in the foreseer in her dancer's garb, so exposed, so _gorgeous_.

“How am I?” C'jhimei crooned, her hands massaging Tahla's back.

The keeper smiled and kissed at her jaw. “Gorgeous.”

“Sit up,” the clerk said, and Tahla obliged, letting fingers and lips tease at her breasts. “Mmm, the Twelve have gifted you so handsomely compared to me.”

“Or mayhap they gifted what would suit you best,” Tahla sighed, whining as C'jhimei sucked at her nipple. A muffled chuckle sent rumbles through her breast and the keeper's eyes lidded, her hands taking the seeker's ears and petting them.

She imagined running her fingers through pink hair, was K'lyhia's hair so smooth and fine? The foreseer's mouth latched on her tit, exploring, licking, suckling cautiously. She would let go, purr at the feeling of Tahla's fingers stroking her ears, eyes bright behind her glasses. Some percentage would come from her mouth, but odd as it was Tahla was sure she would find it unbelievably arousing to hear.

Their tails touched and rubbed, the sensation only adding to her pleasure as she fantasized in earnest. Her core pulsed with an aching want and Tahla shifted to address it, grinding her hips against C'jhimei with purrs vibrating through her throat. One of her hands fell to explore the seeker's breast, fingers rubbing and clenching into the soft flesh while the clerk moaned into Tahla's bust.

“Tahla-” she groaned. “Oh, gods, I _want_ you, _all_ of you.”

Tahla nodded furiously and they let one another go. “Show me,” she said as she stood up and tore her panties off like they burned with Ifrit's flame. Her core certainly felt as though it did, hot like a furnace, so sodden it were as though the ocean coursed through her insides. C'jhimei ripped her breast band up and over her head and arms, then her panties were sliding up coiling legs to be thrown aside without a care. Tahla drank in her luscious body, the slender hips, the neatly cut patch of white that protected her womanhood.

Did K'lyhia tend her hair so, or was she shaven clean? It seemed wrong to imagine anything unkempt on her, just as offputting as seeing her without her glasses had been regardless of the feelings the dancer costume lit in Tahla's blood.

They stayed still for a moment then C'jhimei sat up and leaned in. Her fingers touched Tahla's side, tracing the dark scar Ifrit's claw had left in her. “I never imagined someone like you would notice someone like me,” the seeker breathed, adjusting so she could mark the scar's boundaries in kisses. Tahla whimpered at her touch, trying to find the words to answer her all while straining not to wish that it was K'lyhia kissing around her scar and looking at her with those deeply awestruck eyes.

“I... I never thought I...”

“Liked women?” the other miqo'te queried, her kiss-traced tour of Tahla's scar stopped halfway by the question. Tahla nodded. “I knew you had your,” fingers spun as she grasped for the right word in light of their present condition, “partner, so I never would have dreamed it until tonight.” The pause dragged out with her ears twitching uncomfortably. “Does he know?”

“Yes,” Tahla murmured.

C'jhimei sighed and smiled. “Should've asked that earlier really, shouldn't I?” She giggled and finished kissing Tahla's side. “Where do you want to go from here, Tahla?”

K'lyhia's head cocked to the side, arms folded over her breasts as she waited for a reply. Tahla fumbled to answer them both, overcome for a moment, then she found her voice.

“May I taste you, C'jhimei?”

The seeker smiled wide, tumbling back into her bed without a care save for grabbing a pillow to perch her head upon. Her hand flowed down from her neck, teasing across her cleavage then her stomach to descend to the apex of her thighs. There she circled her slit until Tahla whined in protest, her grin turning triumphant as at last she spread her folds to the keeper's eyes. Tahla felt a sigh pass her lips as she leaned down to admire C'jhimei's sex, she had never been so close to another woman's body before and the experience excited her and made her nervous in even measure. Especially since C'jhimei knew more about this than she did, whereas with Maurelin she had always felt on more even ground.

And with K'lyhia she would surely be the teacher for a chance, the voice of her fantasies whispered.

Forcing that aside Tahla sank to her knees at the bed's edge and brought her fingers to the other woman's thighs, trailing over them to seek out her glistening lips. C'jhimei's head tipped back a fraction when fingertips ran on her lips and gently stroked at her folds, a low mewl leaving her throat. “Tahla,” she breathed, her fingers finding Tahla's hair and caressing an ear.

Tahla let her eyes lid when she pressed a kiss at the top of C'jhimei's slit, letting the other woman's scent engulf her. Parchment and ink, documents and the office, her work clinging to her flesh. Exactly what she imagined it would be like, and it sent her thoughts cascading with her eyes closed.

Her kisses trailed downward into the seeker's spread sex, damp folds brushing on her lips with each one. Breathy whines turned into moans as Tahla grew more adventurous and her kisses more forceful, the hand on her ear stroking while she purred into C'jhimei's sex, only in her mind it was K'lyhia whose cunt she touched, kissed, began to lap at. She saw the pink-haired foreseer laid bare in her mind, shaven pussy at her lips while breasts heaved in response to her acts. K'lyhia's cheeks burned red as new sensations and feelings overwhelmed her, Tahla serving as stimulus and teacher in one.

“Tahla!” C'jhimei cried again as Tahla lapped at her needing cunt, the seeker's thighs bucking in answer to a brush over her pearl. Eyes still closed the keeper continued, questing deeper into the other woman's sex, tongue pressing into every nook and cranny in search of the spots that made her partner whimper, whine and wail. They both purred now, the reverberating sounds only enhancing the melody that was C'jhimei's pleasure. “Oh gods, you're so _good_ , how can I be your first-?” Tahla suckled on her folds and the desperate question gave way to a shriek of delight, fingers descending to rub on her clit as C'jhimei tipped her head back as far as she could to scream her pleasure to the ceiling.

Talk for me, she would breathe to K'lyhia, and the foreseer would whimper percentages and observations that ignited Tahla as much as the filthiest things Maurelin snarled at her in passionate throes. K'lyhia would stared wide-eyed through her glasses, the glasses had to be there, it was just _wrong_ otherwise. A lap at her clit would send the pink-haired seeker whimpering and babbling toward orgasm and among it all a wail of Tahla's name-

C'jhimei's fingers clenched on Tahla's ear and tugged in her throes, the bite of pain snapping Tahla from her enraptured fantasy with eyes snapping open. Her own core dripped and burned, both C'jhimei's presence and her erotic dream of K'lyhia making her drown in a haze of arousal. Lapping at C'jhimei's slit desperately she lapped at the seeker's nectar in thirst, the taste of her heavy in Tahla's mouth as she rubbed at dampened thighs and her sodden cunt.

“Oh, _Tahla_ , oh by Llymlaen, ohhhh-!” Hips bucked again and again, soaking Tahla's face in C'jhimei's need while she plunged two fingers inside herself. Her moans at the fingering only seemed to drive the seeker further in her passion, the fingers at the clerk's clit furiously rubbing while the one in Tahla's hair gripped tight to press the keeper's face to the inside of her thighs as hard as she could short of smothering the iron-haired miqo'te.

Tahla was breathless regardless, overcome by the feeling of her fingers curling inside her to scrape on her walls, the heavy bitter taste of C'jhimei's sex, the image of K'lyhia undone by her hands that made her sex ache to think of. What breaths she stole were rough husky pants that burned on the seeker's glistening folds, the clerk's eyes fully lidded as she shuddered with every breath. Her petite breasts heaved with beads of sweat caressing them, thighs tight on Tahla's head as the seeker desperately sought her climax.

“Tahla please don't stop, I'm so close so so _close_ -!” C'jhimei babbled through her passionate wails. Tahla licked and kissed dutifully, pushing the other woman right to the edge, her head leaving C'jhimei's sex just long enough to gasp out.

“Cum for me!” C'jhimei's name faltered on her lips, K'lyhia's yearning to be spoken no matter how cruel it would be and so she gagged herself with the seeker's cunt in desperation. Her lips grasped C'jhimei's, suckling, tongue licking, and the clerk came undone with a final scream of the keeper's name. Her back arched with her tail lashing, the thighs on Tahla's shoulders tightening as a rush of her nectar bathed Tahla's mouth. The keeper drank deep, swallowing down the first gushes of release as she continued to lap up C'jhimei's orgasm, but it became too much and splashed across her face, her neck, down to soak her breasts in the other woman's juices.

Tahla's fingers clenched inside her and the friction on her walls sent her tumbling into her own climax, spasming as she pulled out of C'jhimei's loosening thighs. On her knees she shook, clutching at her breast as she continued to touch her sex with sodden fingers, losing herself to the fantasy once again. K'lyhia's fingers inside her now, the foreseer watching her orgasm with those bright blue eyes. Her name stuck in Tahla's throat, no, no, it was wrong.

The keeper of the moon crashed to earth with throat raw, panting for breath as C'jhimei perched on the bed above her and petted her hair.

“You were incredible,” the seeker whispered, her own voice still light and breathless, her ears perked up. Her tail swayed excitedly as she watched Tahla pull her dripping fingers from inside her, C'jhimei's orange eyes fixated on the digits. “May I taste?” Tahla smiled a weary smile and reached up, letting C'jhimei lick at her fingers like an actual cat. To further that comparison the seeker purred in delight, planting a kiss on Tahla's lips once her fingers were cleaned.

“Thank you,” Tahla murmured in the aftermath.

“I may be too bold, but would you like to try more?” C'jhimei asked, a look of concern crossing her face. “I haven't moved you too fast, have-” Tahla's head shook urgently.

“You are lovely, C'jhimei,” she smiled. “Forgive me for being so distracted.”

“I'd rather you were distracted by me,” the seeker grinned. “So I'll have to put in my best efforts.” She reached out and Tahla let herself be pulled up to the bed and taken in a fiery kiss, heading toward a night of passionate exploration.

She only hoped that the bitter ache of longing would fade one day.


	8. An Experience to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Titfucking

As the door of Thancred's room closed behind them, Gerlind Sterne found herself tracing the path she had taken to get there, surprised and thrilled in equal measure. Fighting beside him beneath the Sultantree, glimpses of him about Thanalan as she travelled from east to west, Horizon to Black Brush and beyond. Sometimes a pretty lady or two at his arm, sometimes alone, but always drawing her gaze and her seeming to draw his.

And she had happened upon him on her way through Black Brush Station, the day too far gone for her to make it back to Ul'dah as she had planned so she instead sought refuge at the Coffer and Coffin. There he had been, perched on a barstool and downing an ale, that maddening grin on his lips when his eyes found her and he raised his tankard in a toast to 'the royal guest of honor'. However he had learned about that, mayhap gossip travelled fast in Ul'dah.

“You look rather lost in thought,” Thancred commented in the present, making her realise she was staring at him. “I do hope you aren't nodding off before we've even begun.” A chuckle passed his lips, throat rippling beneath his tattoos.

“I was just thinking that I keep running into you,” the dark-skinned gladiator answered.

Thancred shrugged. “What can I say if I find myself drawn to a dashing lady such as yourself?”

Gerlind smiled, finding his flirting an unfamiliar but very much pleasing experience. “I shan't complain, since your timing has been quite fortuitous.” Mayhap she could have handled the voidsent beneath the Sultantree, but the masked mage had been fierce and she doubted she could have won that battle without help. A sobering reminder that for all the praise she had gotten, she had much and more to learn.

“Glad I could be of assistance,” the white-haired man grinned. “Although I have every confidence that you would have won through without me.”

The gladiator blushed despite herself and his grin widened an ilm. “Well, you certainly know how to flatter a lady, Thancred.”

“I would like to believe I know far more than just how to _flatter_ a woman,” he chuckled. “On that front, we are doing quite an awful lot of talking when I thought you had something more strenuous in mind when you suggested we retire.”

Gerlind laughed at that. “Aye, we are. I would hate to leave you unstimulated.” She closed the gap between them before he could move, watching his eyes fall down her body. Her clothes were still dusty from roaming the wilds of Thanalan, a bronze cuirass over plain white hempen shirt and trousers, stained boots still on her feet. He seemed so pristine next to her, as though the muck and grime of travel and battle simply fell off his charming looks and his clothes repelled any stain.

“I see Mylla's been working you hard,” Thancred commented, brushing his hands over her sleeves to feel the coils of muscle beneath.

“Do you know her?” Gerlind asked, _'have you done this with her'_ hidden beneath.

“Only by reputation,” he remarked casually as she laid her hands at his waist. Sky blue eyes met brown, both smoldering as they had for all those stolen glances, her dusky skin against Thancred's light when they at last pressed their lips together in a firm kiss. He brought his hands to her sides and his thumbs brushed on chiseled muscle at the edge of the cuirass, one hand soon burying itself in tangles of curly black hair.

Gerlind groaned into the kiss, her fragmented memories offering a fragment of her past in a sense of deja vu. Her lips on a boy's, clumsy, adolescent, experimenting for the first time. The sun on them where they nestled amid the mountains, a familiar village around her. Losing herself at the promise of a week-long want finally being sated, she pulled Thancred closer, taller than him by nearly a head so he craned up to deepen the kiss as she bid. Her tongue pressed into his mouth, scraping over his to explore him. His own moan hummed through her jaw and the gladiator purred in answer, relishing the feel and taste of him until they parted.

“Gods,” Thancred breathed once he had recovered his wind. “One would think you famished, Gerlind.”

“Only because you have given me the most inviting looks all week long,” the gladiator retorted. “I rather suspect all your flaunting of fine conquests was to make me jealous.”

“Perish the thought,” the rogue grinned with hand on heart. “I assure you that I had no such intentions. Although I will concede I rather hoped the two of us would arrive here.”

Gerlind cast a glance around the room, small and utilitarian as she expected, the bed fit for one, a small dresser by it and old shutters at the window. “You rather hoped we would liaise in a room in the Coffer and Coffin?” she teased.

Thancred laughed. “You know full well what I meant, Gerlind.”

“Oh, I did,” she grinned. One hand came to his neck, running across his tattoos and tracing their paths over his skin while he sighed at the touch of her calloused hands. “I did wonder what the meaning of these delightful marks of yours was.”

“Proof of my expertise, if you believe it,” he explained. “I earned them while I studied in Sharlayan.”

Her eyebrow piqued. “You studied in Sharlayan? And here I thought you merely a fine face, if deft with a blade. Though I doubt the stuffy scholars offer degrees in pleasing women, so whatever did you do with your time?”

“My dear, you have _no idea_ the misadventures I stumbled across in Sharlayan,” he teased. “But those are tales for another time. Right now I think you rather fine yourself.”

“And you would sample more of me?”

“Certainly,” Thancred winked. Obligingly her hands came to the laces of her cuirasse, undoing them with his help. While she could put on and take off the plate herself, a necessity she'd quickly learned, his deft hands made the process far faster and thrilled her when they brushed on her sides and encroached on her full breasts. Unbidden a moan passed her lips, the rogue grinning at her as the cuirass slipped off.

“Surely a gentleman would undress first,” Gerlind jested.

“I very much doubt that you put stock by the manners of polite society somehow,” he deadpanned with a step back toward the bed. “But I shall indulge you on this occasion.” His tunic was pulled over his head, followed by his white shirt to leave him topless to her eyes. She traced his toned abs and the hair that coated them, if she was like a bodybuilder than Thancred was a gymnast, muscular but with his body made for agility over raw strength. While she could weather a fearsome beating and deal one back in return, Thancred would flow like water, weaving around attacks to strike at the enemy's vulnerable targets. She had seen him do precisely so against the voidsent and the mage, and despite her jest she very much knew there was far more to him than a pretty face.

That said, it was a _very_ pretty face, with a handsome body to go along with it.

“Am I to your liking, my dear?” he purred.

“Oh, very much,” Gerlind replied, eyes coming to his waist as her hands took her shirt in preparation for the next step. While he had been to the point she chose to tease, slowly drawing the hem up her stomach. Thancred watched intently, eyes relishing every ilm of dusky skin she bared for him. She halted just beneath her bust, hoping to tug a reaction of him with her striptease, but all she won was a grin and a chuckle. She turned her back to him, remembering the dancing girls in Ul'dah and making her own effort at their sultry motions. The shirt slid over the band that held her breasts, then to her shoulders to be pulled over her head. Twirling it in her hand as it came free she slowly rotated back to him. His gaze immediately sought her chest, wandering over the strained band with his smile wider and eyes fiery.

“Delightful,” the rogue murmured, Gerlind tossing the shirt aside to bring her hands to her breasts. Fingers played over them, her mouth slightly agape as she rubbed at her nipples. Casting off her stoicness, free to act sultry and wanton before him left her with thrills crackling in her veins. Oh, combat had its joy, there was a sense of rightness in helping people, but how long had it been since she had had more than her own fingers to tend this aching need? Her fractured memory gave her little impression of when what she remembered took place in relation to the time since she had awoken in the forest.

And besides, she had wanted to try Thancred from the first.

“I have only just begun,” she teased, bringing her hands to her belt and swiftly undoing it. That too joined the shirt, her boots next. Thancred relieved himself of his own boots, taking a seat on the bed as though sensing that she wished to put on a show for him a while, his trousers already looking tighter than when they had entered.

Once she had unlaced the trousers she turned her back again, feeling his eyes on her arse as she swayed her hips. She was sure he'd likely seen better, but a glance over her shoulder found him enraptured and that was enough as she slowly exposed her smalls. The white shorts hugged her rear well, something she was suddenly thankful for as she slid the trousers past her knees and down to her ankles. She turned around once she had stepped out of them, finding his hands gripping the bed surely to prevent him from palming the cock that now tented his own trousers.

“Why, Thancred,” she purred, taking a measured step closer. “Could it be that you're enjoying this?” The words smoldered on her lips, her passion unleashed with feelings she mayhap hadn't indulged in _years_.

“Whatever gave you that impression, my dear?” the rogue chuckled, eyes on her chest as she advanced.

“My eyes are up here,” Gerlind teased.

“Forgive me, for you have many fine assets but two in particular are most pleasing to the eye and noticeable besides,” Thancred answered.

“You certainly do use your mouth well,” the gladiator chuckled, hands flowing over her back to find the knot that held the band to her chest.

“Oh, a lot of ladies tell me so,” he said in a husky voice that sent levinbolts dancing in her bones. “If you wish I shall let you take my measure.”

“I think I shall, in more ways than that.” The band came untied and she let it fall away. Her breasts sagged without its support but remained proud, large, rounded, crowned by rising nipples a darker brown than the skin around them. She descended on Thancred like a bird of prey swooping for a meal, straddling his hips and feeling his hard cock right against her damp slit while her bosom rested right before his face.

“Very forward of you,” Thancred grinned, fingertips coming to cup her rear as he pressed his lips to one tit. Gerlind sighed at his touch, feeling his fingers work in tandem with his mouth to please her supple flesh. The gentle kisses sought one nipple and he enveloped it, a lick scraping over its tip until the gladiator groaned in delight at the sensation. He definitely _knew_ what he was doing, soon finding the spots on her bust that sent her to heights of pleasure and exploiting them to elicit the sounds of satisfaction from her lips.

“Oh, you _are_ good at this,” she praised with a kiss atop his scalp. He smelled of something strong, some kind of perfume or cologne no doubt, and she chuckled at the thought he was so dedicated to his womanizing that he would continue such a routine out in the arid wastes. Unless the womanizing was meant to be a facade, she supposed in a moment of clarity before he nipped at her tit and she was left crying out. Her hips ground atop him and Thancred groaned into her bosom, his eager cock throbbing for her beneath her womanhood.

“Gerlind,” he murmured, tongue slipping over her flesh as his eyes lidded. She continued to ride him a while, relishing how he worshiped her breasts and the feeling of his hands at her rump and in the small of her back. His mouth did the very work of the gods at her chest, soon filling her core with heat and dampness, his cock straining under her rocking hips until he was moaning into her cleavage.

“You seem to very much _like_ my 'assets',” the gladiator chuckled with another kiss to his head. “Mayhap you would like more of them.”

Thancred lifted his head from her chest to stare up at her, his eyes eager yet puzzled. “I do not grasp your meaning, yet I find myself excited to learn regardless,” he chuckled in return. Smiling Gerlind dismounted him, a firm hand to his chest keeping him sat while she fumbled for the dresser drawer. She hoped the _Quicksand_ was not unique in this particular service, and fortunately she found herself rewarded by a phial of familiar thick liquid greeting her questing fingers. The rogue's eyes lit up when she held the phial to his gaze.

“It would have been rather embarrassing had that not been there,” she confessed in a laugh.

“You mean you didn't _know_?” Thancred laughed. “And here I thought this setup might be carefully orchestrated.”

“I might say the same about your constant dramatic appearances when I find myself in a fierce battle,” the gladiator retorted as she stood tall, bringing the phial up over her breasts. “Your member looks rather constrained, Thancred. Would you like to free it?”

He shrugged as though he had not noticed his own straining arousal, but undid his trousers and stripped them off. The white-haired hyur was left in just _very_ tight smalls, his member a good size to her eyes as he leaned back on his hands and watched her eagerly.

The phial came uncapped and slowly, carefully she poured. A thin line of oil descended to land on her tit, its coldness tearing a gasp from her throat as it oozed across her flesh. After a few moments she set the phial back down and her hands set to work, soaking in the oil and rubbing it across her dusky breasts, fingers caressing and kneading. Thancred stared as though she had glued his eyes to her bosom, mouth agape as her glistening flesh rose and fell at her increasingly strained breaths. It felt so _incredible_ , by the Warden, the oil adding a new layer of sensuality to the already delightful feeling of playing with her sizable breasts and Thancred's eyes on her charging the proceedings with raw desire. She soaked her tits all over and under, lavishing attention on pebbled nipples with pinching and rubbing. She felt like a whore to perform so for Thancred but that thought only stoked her excitement rather than drowning it.

“Thal's balls,” Thancred cursed breathless, a hand finally working on his shaft, his head tipping back a little as he kept his eyes on her performance.

Panting, Gerlind fell to her knees. The rogue questioned her with blazing eyes, her answer taking the form of her fingers tugging desperately on his smalls until she slipped them down to his ankles and left them there. She pushed between his legs and they parted for her obligingly, Thancred's hand leaving his erect manhood to throb with the swollen head soaked in arousal. They were both more than lubricated enough but even so she gave it an experimental lick, a low moan purring in the back of Thancred's throat at the touch on his aching need.

His pre tasted bitter and salty on her tongue but the taste didn't matter, it was the feeling of it, the long-missed sensation of a man's cock. Again she did not know how long it had been and only snatches of sex became stirred, on her knees in that same village taking the boy into her mouth, somewhere that might have been Ul'dah working a shaft with her fingers while her mouth devoured another. Snapping herself back to the present she set about her plan, taking her slick breasts and pressing Thancred's manhood into her cleavage.

“Gods,” he groaned and whined, Gerlind rising and falling to let the oiled flesh rub up and down the turgid shaft. Unguided his member slid across the flesh, brushed on a nipple to ease a gasp out of her throat, then Thancred guided it back into the heaven between her breasts and rose enough that he could rock his hips against her. “Mmm, by far your best assets, I would venture.”

“I'm pleased that you think so,” she purred, her own hands coming to the sides of her chest and squeezing. Her bosom clamped like a vice around him, Thancred's head finally tipping back all the way as she engulfed his cock and took a faster pace in stroking him. One of his hands clenched in her hair, holding her tight as she slipped her breasts down to his base and lavished the slick head with licks and kisses. The rogue's eyes were squeezed closed when she glanced up, his mouth agape and gasping at her touch.

“Gerlind-” She slipped him into her mouth while she worked her tits up to her lips and back down, mouth and bosom in tandem making Thancred cry out in raw unfettered pleasure. The hand in her hair pushed on her, forcing her to take more of his length between her lips, but she rebelled against that and Thancred obligingly let her release him.

“Such a gentleman you are,” she teased, licking lingering spittle from her lip while she rubbed both breasts all over the head.

“How polite from the woman massaging my manhood in her bosom,” Thancred deadpanned back, his sarcasm swiftly ripped away as a buck of his hips betrayed just how deep into pleasure she buried him. His member throbbed desperately, perhaps he too was whatever passed for starved by his standards, and the gladiator burned to see him come undone against her chest. Faster and faster she worked up and down, Thancred clinging to her shoulders and rubbing his fingers on strong muscle as he groaned and moaned in time to her rise and fall.

“Go on,” Gerlind purred, leaning up to kiss at his chin. “I know you want to spill your seed _all over_ them, don't you, Thancred?”

“Yes,” he growled bluntly, any teasing on his end ripped away by how close she had him to his edge. He bucked his hips into her hold, the roughness of his thrusts incredible as it forced his cock all the way through her bust, both of them panting as his climax approached and her sex burned for what he would do to her beyond it. “Gerlind!”

A throb through his cock fiercer than any before was her only warning. The last thrust of his hips, his head tipped back all the way as he grunted and the first spurt poured out. Thick seed splattered on collarbone and throat, a few drops reaching her chin as she worked back up and his second shot lavished her breasts in his cum. Thancred spilled four more loads, cum mixing with oil on her skin to leave her tits utterly ruined, but she writhed in pleasure at the feeling of it all running over her sensitive flesh.

They both came to their stop, panting fiercely as they locked burning eyes and feral grins. Slowly Gerlind drew back to release his slowly softening cock, hoping he had at least another load in him to sate her. For the time being, though, she let her breasts sag once more and glanced down to watch the mess he had made of her ooze down toward her nipples. A finger swooped to pluck up a touch of the sticky white, dangling it before her lips before her tongue flicked out to slowly, oh so _slowly_ lap his salty release up.

“Oh, gods,” Thancred groaned. “I confess I didn't expect anything quite like that, and we've only just begun.”

“So we have,” Gerlind purred, mouth descending to lick up another load of seed and devour it. Once again though the taste wasn't the thing, it was the pained groan Thancred gave at the sight of her filthy actions. “After all, I hope you wouldn't leave me neglected after I put so much work into pleasing you, Thancred.” She grinned wide as she could, cupping her tits and holding them up for his inspection.

“I do have work to do come the morrow,” the rogue mused. “And there are only so many bells in a night.”

“Then you must needs work quickly _now_ ,” she retorted.

His eyes sparkled with desire and mirth in even measure. “Oh, I promised I would let you take my measure, Gerlind. What kind of man would I be were I to break that promise?”

Perhaps she did not remember much of her past, she thought as he descended to ravish her in turn. But gods willing, she had given him a memory of her he would _never_ forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Thancred came across as in character for early MSQ, as is probably evident by the immense use of OCs and in particular my handling of K'lyhia last prompt I'm still working on my confidence where writing canon characters is concerned.


	9. To Disturb a Sleeping Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sleepy Sex  
> Minor Stormblood and Shadowbringers spoilers

Solemn Flame wasn't sure what roused him from slumber first. Perhaps Naeve stirred beside him, perhaps someone shouted in the street, but the bald hellsguard found himself waking up in the twilight. The sun had not yet crept over the horizon but the sky turned blue when he looked at the window, halfway between night and day.

The Ul'dahn night was cold but their little house was blessed by ingenious underfloor heating, leaving the room pleasantly warm. Even so he cuddled close to Naeve as he pondered, drawing comfort from her closeness. With Gerlind lost to Norvrandt until a time none of them could yet predict, it fell to the 'lesser' Warriors of Light to step up. Of course the Grand Companies did their part, he knew, he had long worked with the Flames ever since the disaster of the Bloody Banquet and all that had followed. Their anti-primal squad toured the realm doing what they could to lighten the burden of the paladin's absence. But surely the Ascians knew of Gerlind's absence and exploited it, because there was chaos at every turn.

While Arenvald and Fordola went to deal with the latest resurgence of Leviathan in La Noscea, Ishgard had sent word of hurricane winds encroaching upon Dragonhead, and he and Naeve had gone together to respond. They had dived into the Howling Eye almost in time but not quite to stop the ixal summoning Garuda once more, and while the two of them were more than adequate to handle the threat, the quantity of crystals the beastmen had used left their primal strong enough to tax the two close to the limit. So it was that when he gazed across the floor their clothes lay strewn without care, Naeve's coat across his robe, her gunblade leaned against the wall by his staff.

The roegadyn turned to his lover, eyes gazing lovingly across her slight form while her head rested against his shoulder. She had grown more muscular of late, throwing herself into training with lance and gunblade alike so passionately he almost felt as though he fell in love with her all over again. She had been majestic facing Garuda with the art of the gunbreaker, the blade parrying the Lady of the Vortex's claws over and over before the viera answered with a cartridge-charged blow that smashed the primal to her knees.

Flame smiled, watching Naeve's ears twitch at her dreams, slumbering face peaceful. Soft blue marks on her cheeks, her vibrant blonde hair highlighted the color of snow and her skin darker than when they had met after years in brighter climes. The night before she had all but dragged herself into bed with his help, strength spent in fighting Garuda without a healer to pour strength back into aching limbs. She was peaceful at least, one arm laid gently over him, the nightmares that had once left her sleep disjointed put to rest after their efforts in fallen Dalmasca.

He admired her beauty with a smile, marveling that she had reciprocated his feelings that night in Vesper Bay. At times the hellsguard had feared it a fluke, spurred by the possibility of death more than anything else, but then they had clung together through thick and thin, side by side in every battle. Across Ishgard, the east, and Gyr Abania they had blazed their trail, feats he had thought the realm of heroes alone suddenly done by his hands and hers.

Naeve shifted in her sleep, a murmur passing between her lips as the motion made the covers slip. More of her skin lay bare when she stilled, the top of a breast peeking out when he looked down. An ugly red scar lingered across the pale flesh, the memento Zenos yae Galvus had left her when they clashed in the throne room of Ala Mhigo. Brionac's edge had been enough to save her life but not to spare her flesh. A brick-red finger reached out to trace the line down from collar to breast, meeting the covers just before he reached the scar's end. The feel of her on his skin made his breath catch in his throat, swelling with love and desire in even measure.

Mayhap the latter in greater measure, on reflection. The waves of chaos stirred of late had the Warriors of Light running the length and breadth of the realm to cover one another and quell the latest crisis, and such a manic state had left he and Naeve separated a while. They had hoped to spend some time together in peace, but then Ser Aymeric's missive had arrived and they had headed to Coerthas with all haste. It had been far, far too long since they had had the opportunity to sate one another and he could already feel his want rising, blood flowing downward.

“Naeve?” he ventured, but the viera did not stir. If anything, that fact made his member swell more quickly, knowing that she was as bare as he, that he might admire her to his heart's content. He felt _guilty_ , he would rather she were awake to share in the pleasure, but even when he shook at her shoulder she merely murmured incoherently and continued to slumber.

Feeling like a boy spying on a woman undressing, oddly _thrilled_ , he peeled back the covers further. Naeve's breasts were revealed in all their splendor, no longer symmetrical thanks to yae Galvus, but still pert and perfect beneath his red eyes. He brushed his fingers over dark nipples, finding them soft to his touch, her areola tight disks around the peaks. Flame sat up and shifted, stretching to loosen stiff muscle as he gently kissed over her bosom, her skin pleasantly warm to the touch.

A soft whimper passed Naeve's lips but she did not stir when his head whipped up to check her face. Soon his lover settled once again and he returned to his ministration, cock steadily rising as he lavished her bust in kisses and licks. One nipple soon stood hard and firm beneath his tongue and he stretched over her to give the other the same treatment, tending kisses to the scar once that work was done.

By Rhalgr, he _burned_ for her, always and forever but especially tending her so while she slumbered unawares. He took one breast in hand, feeling her heartbeat beneath his fingers as he gently caressed and squeezed. Gentle moans passed her parted lips, the viera's brow furrowing but her eyes still closed. Emboldened he pulled the covers further away, laying them both bare to the ceiling above.

When they walked in public Solemn Flame found eyes oft drawn to Naeve's legs first of all, unsurprisingly. They had started long and become toned and strong from the jumps she had practiced as the Azure Dragoon, to the point that he had grown used to her absence at night in Ishgard when she went to leap from rooftop to rooftop in hopes of keeping her technique well honed. Such nocturnal expeditions had fortunately faded of late, her mind more at ease and the gunblade not needing such flourishes, but her body kept the marks of her dedication as much as it held the scars her enemies had left. Zenos's memento was but one of the more striking, faint wounds lingered all across her snowy skin. Burns and cuts, bruises and scrapes all lingered on Naeve in faded form. Once when she bemoaned her cowardice he had stood with her naked as their namedays before the mirror and traced the echoes of her courage across her skin.

He did so once again, lips pressed to every scar, worshiping her with all his heart. She was Halone without a shield, cold and fierce in her fury, but at the same time the passion that fueled her fury also made her love warm and intense. His lips marked a dragon's claws in her side, a Garlean arrow at her hip, seeing her in all her splendor when he remembered her avenging each injury. The dragon's blood burning in her icy blue eyes, Brionac slashing and thrusting her foes to ruin while he watched in awe, pride and yearning.

As ever the skin around her sex lay shaved bare, her swollen lips free for him to kiss. Naeve whimpered and trembled beneath his lips, even asleep the way he touched her teased out reactions and likely bled into her dreams. His name passed her lips and he stopped, startled, but her head lay still on the pillow still. Finally reaching down to palm his aching member, the roegadyn tentatively licked at her petals from above, the taste of her sweet on his tongue. Lured irrestably by her divine nectar he moved carefully across the bed, hands parting her legs so he could lay between and drink deep of her.

Strands of blonde and white stroked over the pillow when she stirred, but to his surprise even when he lapped at her in earnest fervor Naeve did not wake. Excitement pulsed like levin in his veins, the joy of pleasing her enhanced by this fetish he had never known he had. Pleasuring Naeve while she lay in slumber made him ache with longing, cock slick in his grasp as he worked the shaft. How far dared he go? He could work himself to release just tasting her womanhood but he found himself yearning to take another step. His free hand flowed over smooth thighs and curved down to the base of her sex. One cautiously pressed against her damp labia, stroking on one then pushing slowly into her.

When he looked to see if his fingering had roused her, he found her cheeks flushed red beneath the blue marks and her lips agape, her breathing deeper. Emboldened he slid another finger into her flower, brushing both against her slick walls, curling them to brush each ilm of her sex. On reflex her hips answered his tending with a spasm, pressing her labia to his face for an instant, then the roegadyn chased them back down and lapped at Naeve's clit. He _longed_ to make her release, to sate her while she slept and sate his own newfound desire in the process.

Her fingers found the sheets, clenching and tugging as Flame ate her sex deep and fiercely, his fingers thrusting and coiling to explore all of her sodden petals. The viera panted in feverish sleep, his touch pushing her toward orgasm all while she stayed in slumber. Solemn Flame could not have stopped even had he wanted to, so pent with lust for his beloved that he longed to drown himself in her. Simultaneously he hoped that she would wake at any moment to join in and that she would stay slumbering because he found himself utterly aroused by worshiping her while she slept. Droplets of her nectar stained his chin and short beard as his ravenous need for her made his worshiping rough and undignified.

The hellsguard edged close to his end, cock throbbing hard in his tight grasp, but to spill himself on the sheets seemed a pitiful end. Another lick across Naeve's folds had the viera whining, whatever dream filled her head making her cry his name again without waking. The sound quickened the black mage's blood and in a moment he was decided.

Carefully he left Naeve laying, adjusting his position to kneel between her thighs. As gently as he could he moved them into position, lining himself up with the viera's glistening core. Flame hesitated a moment, unsure if he was going too far, but he was too far gone to stop more than that. Slowly he ran his engorged member over the labia, groaning softly at the feeling of her against him before he spat on his hand and used it to further slick himself. They had long learned that while the difference in size between them was gentler than for some, it was still best to err on the side of caution.

He never wanted to hurt her under any circumstance, but especially not when he meant to take her to the very pinnacle of the heavens.

Groaning, Flame buried himself inside her sex, carefully pushing into her and feeling her wrap around his shaft tight as a vice. Her legs clung to his sides as the roegadyn slowly pulled then pushed, taking a slow rhythm to ease into her. A look at her face found her lips wide and moans trembling in her throat, sweat beading on her skin. She looked utterly divine even disheveled, her breasts heaving with each pant, her hair falling like spun gold.

“Oh, Naeve,” he groaned as he made love to her. Their bodies joined together in the most intimate way, his cock touching her very core while he leaned over her to bathe in her beauty. With each cycle of in and out he quickened his pace a little, breaths strained at the feeling of her heat on his need. How long he had waited for this moment only to find it more intense than he had ever imagined, and still she lay asleep even as he took her.

Naeve moaned in her sleep, his name on her lips making his whole body run with levin. He answered her in a desperate cry, lost in his love and desire for her. He was adrift in turmoil, Gerlind gone, their company scattered, but still he had her. His rock, his anchor in the storm that engulfed them, and he prayed he would never have to let her go. That he could always be there for her as well, tending her every need as she tended his.

Her walls burned around him, utterly tight and milking his shaft with every thrust. Already pent up and neglected, his cock throbbed fiercely in anticipation of release while his balls tightened in preparation, the roegadyn full groaning every time he took his lover to the hilt. At last Naeve stirred, eyes slipping open to be rocked by a wail of pleasure as his hips slapped into hers.

“L-love?” she whimpered between deep wails, gazing wide-eyed up at him.

“Naeve,” he grunted, a low whine in his throat as he swayed on the edge above his climax, the urge to let go too strong to resist. Naeve broke first, unprepared due to her slumber and pent up to the point that her orgasm swept through her with the force of a tidal wave. The viera screamed and wailed, spasms arching her back while her hips bucked over and over. Impossibly her walls shrank tighter and Flame cried her name, burying his face into her hair and ears to ride out his own finish while weeks of built up seed flooded into her cunt.

Sweating and shaking they clung together, spending their release holding each other like two sailors washed from a shipwreck. Naeve whimpered against him, teeth pressing on her bottom lip to try and find some stability in the turmoil to which she had awoken. Her hands found his arms and clung to them, snowy pale skin stark against his earthen red and her slender fingers so dwarfed by his stocky digits. They panted into each other, her breath in his throat, his in her locks, bathing each other in passionate heat.

Finally they came to rest, descending from the heights of carnal heaven back to the realities of mundane earth. Sweat-soaked skin sticking, lungs desperately reclaiming the air their cries had spilled out and her incredible tightness receding as his member slowly went flaccid once more. Flame pressed kisses to Naeve's ears, relishing the gentle little whimpers she gave when his lips nipped at the sensitive skin beneath her blonde fur. Arms too worn out to continue holding him over her, he rolled onto his back at her side and lay gasping for breath. When he turned his head to meet her gaze, her blue irises were also wide with her afterglow, mixed emotions swirling within.

“Forgive me,” he ventured, uncertain of the ground on which he stood with her. Her lips were simply neutrally agape, her panting gentle as she found herself.

“You certainly gave me a surprise to wake to, love,” Naeve commented. “A welcome one, but still a surprise.” She slowly smiled a little.

Flame smiled back. “You looked so fetching in your sleep that I could not help myself.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “I do feel deprived that you let me sleep through it all right until the very end. But surely you can make up for that soon enough.”

“I swear,” the hellsguard smiled, finding the strength to sit up. He cast his gaze over her once again, taking in the little marks on her body where he had nipped along with the scars that told her story. The Azure Dragoon and Eorzea's sworn protector stared back at him with loving, brilliant eyes, desire, devotion and dedication spoken all at once by their shine.

Mayhap she was a fair sleeping princess like those in the tales of eld, and mayhap his loins burned hot at the thought of once more taking her as she slumbered. But awake she blazed with life and love glorious to behold, and while her fingers stroked over his body Solemn Flame answered in kind, marveling that of all the souls in Eorzea it was he she had chosen as her rock amid the storm.

By Rhalgr, by all the Twelve, he would weather all that lay ahead with her and hold the line until Gerlind returned. So he swore with his kiss on her lips.


	10. Ignited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aphrodisiacs  
> Minor Summoner questline spoilers

The Sagolii Desert _should_ have been near silent at this time of night, the heavens above full to the brim with stars and the moon. The U Tribe's hunters lay at rest in Forgotten Springs, many of the desert's beasts retreating beneath the sands or into their lairs at dusk to weather the cold night that would see the sands become chill to the touch. A few stray zombies wandered about the ruins they sought to guard, undisturbed.

Out amid the dunes, plumes of raging flame illuminated the night. A demonic silhouette of raw fire hung blazing over the sand, horns atop a lithe neck and elongated skull. Distended arms ended in wicked claws, the creature hovering over the ground with no legs beneath its torso. Spiteful hisses and snarls poured from its maw as it lashed and slashed at the one who would try to bring the inferno to heel.

Her dusky skin nearly all concealed by a cloak to ward off the cold, Tahla sidestepped a sweep of the monster's claws. At her feet a topaz carbuncle assaulted the flaming creature with claw and fang, a command raising a barrier of compacted sand to protect the miqo'te from a rake of those infernal talons. Even so one pierced the makeshift shield, an edge clipping Tahla's shoulder and tearing a yelp of pain from her lips.

“Tahla!” A second miqo'te had spoken, her pupils narrow slits against the teal of her irises and the strands of hair that dipped below the hood of her cloak white. She raised a wand in hand, contrails of magic dancing in its wake as the gash in Tahla's shoulder magically knitted shut.

The carbuncle at Tahla's feet rushed at the blazing monstrosity, claws lashing to rake through its molten frame. The elemental aspect snarled, its rage making pillars of fire erupt from beneath the sand and fuse the grains to glowing puddles of glass in their wake. Nimbly Tahla and her companion avoided the onslaught, Tahla perusing her grimoire hastily and casting magic in an intricate display of symbols about her free hand. The flames turned sickly, as though somehow the spell the keeper of the moon cast made the fire itself begin to _rot_. Next a swell of noxious gases popped into existence around her enemy, searing at its infernal body as a swift weave of symbols made raw power dance from her fingers.

The elemental beast shrieked in rage as the rot and miasma festered upon its body, inflamed by Tahla's command to the point that the creature simply fell apart. Embers cascaded as its body parts toppled to the sand. Beside her the carbuncle cheered before dissipating as she dismissed it, tipping down her hood to breathe a heavy sigh of relief and air her sweating cheeks. Iron-hued ears pricked up as the other miqo'te clapped, walking closer with her boots digging deep prints in the sand.

“Did I do it correctly, Y'mhitra?” Tahla asked as the seeker of the sun approached and downed her own hood. Though the night still hung cold about them, the fiery echo of Ifrit she had invoked had raised the air to an unbearable heat just through its mere presence. But the body parts of the lesser primal still lay on the sand, faintly smoldering.

Y'mhitra nodded with the ecstatic grin of the vindicated, watching as the false Ifrit's pieces finally broke apart. “Most impressive, Tahla,” she began, eyes on the resulting cloud of aether as she walked to Tahla's side. On instinct Tahla reached out, trying to exert her will over the dusty remnants while a little frown turned Y'mhitra's lips. “None of the texts described-”

The cloud pulsed the deep crimson of the inferno's core and flew at them too fast to be evaded. With the seeker of the sun stood right beside Tahla both of them were engulfed, burning particles soaking into their very skin like hot embers pressed to flesh. Their cries rang out, the sensation like white-hot coals being forced right through their pores to sit seething in their blood.

“Y'mhitra, what's... happening...?” Tahla groaned, her whole body feeling like it had been set ablaze. If the heat the primal construct had stirred now faded she did not notice, unbearably hot all of a sudden.

The teal-eyed woman tugged at her cloak, eyes wild. “The fire-aspected aether that composed Ifrit-Egi seems to have been _absorbed_ by our bodies.” A groan of discomfort passed her lips. “This heat...”

Tahla's eyes widened, feeling one of those brilliant embers seem to settle in her very loins. Her blood ran like lava in her veins, it seemed a miracle that she did not go up in flames immediately, but she was far far too hot. Her cloak was ripped away and tossed to the sand, Y'mhitra's joining it an instant later. But both women were still sweltering, their skin flushed red and soaked in sweat. Driven by the need to cool down they tore at their remaining garb. Tahla's tunic fell atop the cloak, shoes kicked off to let her unlace and strip off her trousers too.

Hesitantly Y'mhitra worked at her own clothing, her cyan robe unlaced and pulled over her head to join her cloak in the sand. The seeker's modest bosom rested within a plain white bra, beads of sweat running on her flushed flesh. Groaning the scholar continued her desperate stripping, her boots undone in a rush and thrown into the sand, then her leggings peeled off. Both miqo'te stood in their smallclothes with feet pressed to the cooling sand, trying awkwardly not to look at each other even as it became apparently they were still boiling from within and the heat was utterly intolerable.

Tahla made the first move, bra untied and placed with her other clothes, then her panties stripped off. Try as she might Y'mhitra could not resist the lure of the keeper's nude body forever and Tahla felt desperate eyes wander up and down her, drinking in breasts a tad larger than Y'mhitra's own, deep dusky flesh, curls of iron about a dampening slit. Her loins felt like a furnace, the burning magic stirring her into a state of wild arousal as she faintly noticed Y'mhitra giving in and abandoning her own smalls to seek the meager relief of nudity. Feral eyes glanced over the nude seeker, finding her breasts topped by dark pink nipples and a neatly trimmed patch of white hair around her groin.

“Still too hot,” Tahla panted, the infernal ache in her loins enough to have droplets of sweat trailing down her skin.

Y'mhitra gave an agonized frown beneath furrowed brow, trying to voice some theory but only whimpers of need escaping her. The seeker looked at Tahla with ragged eyes, her neck muscles taut with the effort of forcing herself not to look below the keeper's chin and her cheeks almost red as cherries. The iron-furred miqo'te tried to understand what was making their bodies so hot and aroused, but that same thing left her thoughts in ruin, tail stroking up the back of her thigh as she found her gaze drawn uncontrollably to her tutor's slender body.

“Gods above,” Tahla whimpered, fingers descending to her sex. Y'mhitra's eyes widened like saucers.

“T-Tahla!” she stammered, making an awkward effort to turn away as Tahla teased at her own folds. A whine of relief passed the keeper's lips, that burning sensation dimming slightly. “I-I-I-”

Tahla had no answer for the seeker's embarrassment, fixated on trying to soothe her own heat with fingers buried in her dripping cunt. She was already so worked up that her juices lay slick on her thighs, soaking her fingers with every desperate thrust and clench into her sex. Moans and cries soon escaped her lips as her eyes lidded, her second hand kneading breasts and pinching nipples to electrify her veins with pleasure. The unbearable heat slowly dimmed as she masturbated, as though it was indeed tied to sex and only release would quench the flame.

Bashfully Y'mhitra looked back, cheeks brilliant red with raw shame and embarrassment at the lure of her pupil's furious ministrations. The teal eyes dropped to Tahla's breasts, drinking in the dark mounds as the keeper roughly squeezed and pinched. She probably didn't _mean_ to tease the scholar but it was impossible for Y'mhitra not to watch when she herself was still fully in the grip of the primal avatar's blazing aether. Slowly the white-haired woman brought a hand to her own breast, whimpering as she mimicked Tahla's motions with her slit pupils locked on the other woman's body.

Tahla's eyes slid open as she pawed her clit with the rough hand of the desperate, a wail passing her lips to echo across the desert sands. She hoped sincerely that her sounds did not draw some predator to them, in their present state the pair of them would be all but defenseless. Her opening eyes found Y'mhitra experimentally toying with her tits, one hand hesitantly passing down her stomach to seek her own cunt.

Oh _Menphina_ , the seeker looked _gorgeous_. Sweat-soaked flesh glistened in the starlight, her head tipped back to bare the hollow of her throat to Tahla's smoldering eyes. Those eyes passed lower to firm breasts of a pleasant size, down to the seeker's belly and below. Y'mhitra's fingers spread her needing lips, laying the pink flesh of her sex bare to Tahla accidentally before her fingers descended into it. Two digits twisted and clenched within Tahla's teacher, the teal-eyed woman whimpering at her feverish ache.

Flames dimmed by her efforts were stoked by the mundane flames of desire and Tahla padded over coarse sand, fingers still working at her body every step. Y'mhitra noticed her approach when her head dipped, puzzlement momentarily overcoming mad need.

“Tahla?” Any further words turned into muffled nonsense at Tahla's lips smashing into Y'mhitra's, the seeker resisting for just a moment before the heat in her veins left her reciprocating with seemingly unquenchable thirst. Hands left breasts and cunts to investigate their newfound partners as Tahla dragged Y'mhitra down into the sand. Their sodden skin slid through it and emerged with grains glued to their bodies as they wrestled with one another in search of pleasure. Tahla had the greater strength by a little, pinning the seeker down with a hand pressed to her collarbone while the other quested into her teacher's sex.

“Are you prepared for _my_ lesson?” the keeper purred deliriously, a delightful wail leaving Y'mhitra's throat when three fingers invaded her sodden cunt. Meanwhile Tahla mounted Y'mhitra's thigh, whines and purrs singing from her own throat as she ground her hips atop it.

Maddened with need Y'mhitra thrashed at Tahla's touch, pinned by the weight of the keeper's hand at her throat. Even that made the fire in her loins flare fiercely, Tahla's rough fingering forcing babble between her lips while her back arched over the sand. One hand savaged her own breast, desperate for anything that would help her ascend toward her climax and quench the heat that ravaged her body with the urge to copulate, mate, _fuck_.

Tahla's fingers clenched at the base of Y'mhitra's throat, the heat in her veins stirring primal instincts. _Mine_ , _mine_ , her blood sang as she humped the seeker's thigh, grinding her sex onto the softness of her skin until she wailed to the starry heavens high above. With both her hands occupied, she was unable to stop her teacher when Y'mhitra groped a breast, relishing the sensation of the seeker's fingers digging in as she continued to ride the white-haired woman's leg. The seeker's tail coiled and whipped in the sand while the keeper's came to brush at the top of Y'mhitra's slit and rub through her sodden labia until the teal-eyed miqo'te full screamed in pleasure.

Menphina, _Twelve_ , Tahla felt flooded with heat and pleasure, the sight of Y'mhitra squirming beneath her grip making her sex throb with unfettered desire. Roughly she fingered in and out of her teacher's cunt, the seeker's hips bucking harder each time the three digits sank in to the hilt and then scraped their tips over her inner walls. Y'mhitra's hand grabbed a nipple and twisted, the surge of combined pleasure and pain making the keeper scream her partner's name to the moon above.

They both panted now, bodies close to burning out in the artificial flames of passion, but neither was yet sated and only their orgasms would release them from the throes of their unfettered need. Tahla humped harder and faster, seeing stars each time her cunt crashed against Y'mhitra's thigh, while the keeper's thumb worked on Y'mhitra's pearl in tandem with the fingers that fucked her flooded hole. The seeker's white tail stroked up and down Tahla's thigh while the keeper's mirrored the motion, the soft touch of fur on arousal-drenched skin the little extra touch that completed their rise to carnal ecstasy. Both of them worked drenched in sweat and arousal, the raw hot odor of sex filling their nostrils with every breath and only prolonging their heat.

Y'mhitra broke first, likely the more starved for release to begin with. Her back arched high with her head pressed back into the sand, tail slapping on Tahla's thigh as a continuous scream left her lips. Tahla fingered her relentlessly even as the seeker's juices spurted from around her fingers to drench her hand and drip on the sand beneath, Y'mhitra rutting her hips onto her pupil's hand in the throes of her orgasm with her eyes fully lidded.

Spurred on by Y'mhitra coming undone beneath her, Tahla gyrated her hips hard and fast on the seeker's thigh, her sodden fingers releasing her teacher's spent sex to rub on her own clit. The thought of their arousal mixing together drove her wild at the taboo of it, fingertips rough on her pearl while Y'mhitra's groping of her breast came to a slow squeeze. Regardless it was enough, the keeper surrendering to her own end with open arms. Screaming to the sky she let her slick soak Y'mhitra's thigh, stars dancing on her eyelids while she trembled in utter ecstasy. The heat in her veins finally died, the ember burning in her sex the last to wink out as Tahla tumbled from atop the seeker's leg to lay boneless in the sand. The side of her face pressed into the rough grains, every exhale stirring a tidal wave in miniature before her lips. Y'mhitra's exhausted panting filled her ears in time with her own, the two women laying bare and exhausted a long while as the night's cold soothed their burnt out bodies.

Soon it became apparent that to lay there longer would be to risk the ironic fate of hypothermia, so they shakily rose, Y'mhitra avoiding Tahla's gaze while they brushed the sand from their bodies and dressed. Once they were fully covered in clothes and cloaks, the seeker at last looked at Tahla, albeit only her feet.

“If I may, I would appreciate if this incident stayed between the two of us,” she said softly.

Tahla nodded. “Of course, Y'mhitra. I thought you might have grasped what caused that... reaction at one point.”

“I can only suspect that the life force you used to conjure forth Ifrit-Egi reacted in unforeseen fashion with the fire-aspected aether that formed its body,” her teacher replied. “When you attempted to bind the defeated egi to your service, our bodies then became suffused with that imbued aether, causing a violently... _carnal_ reaction for the purpose of working it through our systems.” She was red-cheeked beneath her hood. “Rest assured that I will study further to find how the summoners of Allag overcame this mishap before we attempt the next Austerity.” She swiftly departed in a teleport back to Gridania, only stopping to suggest that they reconvene there after a good night's rest.

The keeper was left alone beneath the stars, staring at the marks in the sand where she and Y'mhitra had burned together. Were it not for the fact that she doubted aether of an aspect other than flame would cause that same rabid heat, she might have wished that her teacher's studies would turn up no solution.

A sigh passed her lips. Perhaps just the once was good enough, she thought as she concentrated on the teleport home to Mist. For multiple reasons she found herself direly wanting a bath.


	11. The Erotic Delights of Sharlayan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sex Toys  
> This chapter brought to you by the Sharlayan sex toy archon.

It was a bright summer morning in Gridania, even the breeze warm on Kuri's skin as the archer went about her day. She wasn't much given to rest, always another monster to slay, another item to recover or courier, but Mother Miounne had impressed upon her that to run herself ragged would do little good and potentially much harm. Besides, a day off _did_ sound enticing after she had spent the previous day trying to navigate the labyrinthine gaol that was the Thousand Maws of Toto-Rak.

She wandered the paths between the trees, bow left behind for once. Without the chainmail that normally lay beneath, her crimson tabard lay over only a thin white shirt and more than once a passerby had their gaze aimed square at her chest, or at the scales and skin bare between the base of her skirt and the top of her boots. She shifted uncomfortably beneath their eyes, still ill at ease with that sort of attention no matter how often she encountered it. Her time in the forested city had made her presence become accepted, her fin-like horns, pale scales and spined tail familiar enough by now that the stares at those had much dried up, but the stares at her cleavage, legs and rump were a greatly unwelcome replacement.

A passing Wood Wailer stopped beside her, one she vaguely recognized despite his mask. “Ah, Kuri, tis not often I see you so casual. Taking a day of rest?”

The raen woman inclined her head gently. “Mother Miounne suggested I deserved one after the work I have done for Gridania.”

“I might say you deserve many more than _one_ ,” the Wailer chuckled, hands rested on his hips. “If you sought somewhere to spend your time, a party of merchants have set up tent beside the Shaded Bower with exotic goods from far and wide. I imagine a woman of your talent has quite the load of gil amassed by now?” Hesitantly Kuri nodded, a hand on the strap of her satchel. “Well, mayhap something will strike your fancy.”

“Thank you for your advice,” Kuri said politely, bowing in the eastern fashion. It was returned by the flourish that the elezen seemed to favor for their own bow as the Wood Wailer continued on his way. For a moment she pondered finding something else, she had heard of a quaint little tavern in Old Gridania that performers frequented, but curiosity won out. Besides, the tavern was not likely to move, while who knew how long the merchants would stay?

She passed over a bridge, her footsteps on the wood and the flow of the water beneath music to her ears in their own way. The au ra hummed as she went, a group of hyur and elezen children passing her in a rush with a chorus of 'good day, Miss Kuri!' that made her smile a little. She was growing used to the feeling of fame at least.

The lancer guild passed on her left, a blonde viera with snowy pale skin leaving with a glance that found Kuri and flowed over her without stopping. Kuri paid the lancer a little more mind, she had seen the other woman about much of late. But whenever she thought to make conversation, somehow the viera was otherwise occupied, usually testing her mettle against a striking dummy with uncommon fervor. The raen might have stopped if not for the purpose with which the lancer, her name was Naeve Kuri thought she had heard, strode along the path.

Instead Kuri passed through the Shaded Bower, passing carefully through the throngs occupying the market. It seemed even busier than usual, likely due to the foreign merchants the Wailer had mentioned, and the crowds made her feel suffocated as she ducked and weaved through. Arms and legs brushed her in passing, she was simply _shorter_ than the hyur and elezen around her even if she was tall for an auri woman. More than once she had wondered why Azim and Nhaama had left their female children so petite when their male progeny towered even in comparison to the same people who now dwarfed her.

The russet-haired archer made it through the Bower without much more than a bruise or two and the ghost of a hand against her tail, walking out into the sunlight. The tents were obvious immediately, all in garish colors meant to draw the eye. Reds and oranges, purples and yellows that all stood out like a sore thumb against predominantly green and brown Gridania. Signs painted with enthusiastic lettering proclaimed names like “Finest Thavnairian Potions!” and “Dalmascan Wines!”, a crowd bustling around each tent. Kuri walked forward cautiously, neck craning to peek over shoulders as best she could. One tent lay full of tables laden with potion bottles, each with a parchment label on its neck. The next she examined held clothes hung on rails, fine silks, beautiful linen gowns, even a few kimonos that made her eyes wet with nostalgia. She wandered close to examine them, the crowd more occupied by the dresses than the eastern garb.

“Looking for a touch of home, sweetheart?” The woman spoke with a Thavnairian accent as she stopped just behind Kuri.

“Ah, merely curious,” the golden-eyed raen murmured, startled.

“I think you would look rather fine in one of these,” the merchant said warmly. “You'd have the menfolk stumbling over themselves to talk to you.”

A nervous chuckle passed Kuri's lips at that image. “Thank you for your kind words.” Perhaps the woman finally picked up on how uncomfortable the au ra was, or perhaps she did indeed need to tell a child 'take your hands off of that, that is _genuine Yanxian silk_ you little knave-' as she bustled away. The kimonos were beautiful but the sight of their price was enough to put paid to any thought of buying one. Mayhap another time, Kuri thought as she hesitantly left them behind. Glancing about she tried to find another tent which drew her attention. The tent of wines was quickly passed over, she might like a cup at the end of a long day, but even if it was not _genuine_ Dalmascan it would be priced as though it were and a single bottle would empty her coin purse.

A tent of Sharlayan pastries passed by in equal fashion, not helped by those leaving it with odd looks on their faces as they sampled the wares they had bought. Cooking might not have been something Kuri was especially familiar with, but even she had heard tell of the diabolical standards of Sharlayan cuisine. Giving that tent a wide berth, she found one some distance away that quite piqued her eyebrow. Red and purple stripes ran down its cloth like pillars, each stripe with a silhouette of the opposite color within. Red men on purple, purple woman on red, the former with erections, the latter all with heaving busts. A blush coming to her cheeks, Kuri wondered what the reason for such daring decoration was as she circled to find the entrance and the sign that would tell her more.

“The Erotic Delights of Sharlayan”, the sign said from where it stood over two bulky roegadyn, a man and a woman arranged like sentinels. Only a few people gathered about this one, looking rather furtive as they entered. Two women stood a ways off as Kuri approached, hissing furiously to each other as they bustled away purposefully.

“How _dare_ they have it out in the open, there are _children_ about-”

“Utter _filth_ , how by Nophica was he allowed-”

Kuri stood hesitant for a moment, their fury and her own misgivings at both the tent's decoration and the connotations of the sign freezing her feet in place. But beneath it she found herself oddly curious, drawn to the tent's lure like iron to a magnet. Slowly the raen walked through the thin crowd, eyes glancing about to see what the fuss was about as she pushed through folded flaps. Tables lay arrayed within and soon it was apparent to her what had stoked the fury.

The paraphernalia of sex lay on open display. Phallic devices carved with ridges and runes, leather straps and harnesses beside some, others forking apart in various ways. More esoteric fare occupied the tables further back, chains and cuffs, little rings that looked too large to fit any finger save perhaps a roegadyn's. A whole table was dedicated to phials but she doubted their contents were any more innocent than the rest of the tent's fare.

“Now who is this dashing and exotic maiden venturing into my abode?” Kuri jumped deeper into the tent and away from the voice, whirling to find an elezen man at what had been her side. Bronze-haired, his features sharp and his eyes bright violet, he wore a frilly shirt cut low enough to tease the hairs on his chest to her eyes and what could only be described as tight tights that left little at his groin to the imagination with how they bulged. Purple tattoos swirled across the skin of his neck, the mane of his hair thick about his nape.

“My name is Kuri Yumishi,” she answered, wary of the man.

“And I am Donatient Frilaix,” the elezen bowed with a grin. “I believe it to be your first time gracing my wares with your attention, am I correct?” The raen nodded. “And your eyes betray a certain hesitation, a pity.” He sighed as he straightened.

“Your tent is... striking,” the archer commented, fishing for a delicate euphemism.

Donatient smiled wider. “Let us not be coy about it, the exterior puts much and more on show.” He swept his arm about, gesturing across the paraphernalia amassed on the tables. “In my native Sharlayan I am something of a pariah and even in liberal Eorzea my presence draws the critics with their barbed tongues in droves with mutterings of indecency and filth. Even now I see you looking with hesitant eyes, Kuri Yumishi, unsure what to make of my devices.”

“What _are_ they?” Kuri asked. She might have been unfamiliar with sexual matters, her experience confined solely to experimental play of her fingers in her sex, but she was not a blushing maiden _totally_ unsure of what Donatient peddled.

“Enchanted devices designed to stimulate the sexual experience,” the elezen declared, dramatically gesturing once again. “Be it alone or with one or more partners on your erotic journey, these works of art shall add to your performance, elevating the proceedings to the very heights of the heavens themselves!”

Kuri found herself trying not to edge nervously away.

“What is it that draws your fancy, Kuri Yumishi?” Donatient continued, stretching a hand toward her. “What manner of experience do you seek for my wares to assist in? Let me guide you into finding precisely what will sate your _deepest needs_ , which of these devices shall best serve you in the pursuit of _divine_ pleasure!”

“I-” Kuri breathed, trying not to stammer. New feelings stirred in the pit of her stomach when she looked about the tent in a bid to escape his piercing eyes a moment, gaze passing over the tables of devices and finding little relief there.

Donatient seemed to sense he was overdoing it, drawing back into himself with a chastened expression. “Forgive my passion, Kuri Yumishi. As I have made plain, I have devoted myself to this work, nay, this _art_ of aiding others in the quest for carnal pleasure, and I oft forget that my enthusiasm is unusual.” He offered her an apologetic smile.

“I am unfamiliar with all of this, but I was curious,” the raen woman confessed when she looked back at him, warm coils flowing in her core. Sex and desire were oft far from her mind, battle and nobility at the fore in her upbringing with carnal affairs pressed far behind the closed doors of the bedroom. Eorzea was, as he said, a liberal place and she found such things discussed more openly, alluded to more freely than her parents had ever seen fit to, but she had shied away from it.

Now Donatient had her facing it down and the nervous part of her wished she were facing a chimera or a dragon instead. Another side of her was full ready to charge ahead, to dive in at his offer and explore a new world in earnest.

“To be curious is no sin,” the man smiled, slowly walking her further into the tent. She had no doubt that were she to dig in her heels or take a step back then he would let her go without question, but she was not wont to run away for fear of the unknown. “Mayhap you would start simply?” A hand swept over the nearest table, laden with artificial penises. “The humble dildo. Should you wish it may be but an inert toy, a mere replica of the real cock.” The way he purred made Kuri shiver a little, honey on the word's rough sound.

The russet-haired woman bent a little closer to examine the dildos, inspecting them. Most seemed as though Donatient had cast an actual penis in whatever material they were made from, albeit in a variety of sizes and girths, but a few were more exotic to the point she was sure they belonged to nothing Spoken. Some swelled with knots toward the base, some sharply ridged all up the shaft, others forked like a bident. Even looking at them she found herself dwelling a little on the possibilities and she turned her attention to the prices marked on a scroll of parchment beside each. They were perhaps a little on the expensive side, but still quite within her reach.

“I expected something more... magical from Sharlayan,” she commented as she straightened, trying her best not to make the sentence sound condescending. In any case Donatient laughed that off.

“That is the spirit,” he smiled, and plucked one of the simpler pieces from the table. “This one was cast in the image of an auri model, so mayhap it will be to your liking? Forgive me if I assume your taste to be plain.” Kuri's eyes swept it up and down, seeing the hint of scales toward its base above two segmented rings. The upper one as she regarded the phallic device was carved into segments with a rune in each, the bottom one apparently plain save for a single line that sat over the divide between two of the upper segments. With a mischevious grin Donatient brought his other hand to the base and a twist pushed the lower ring round so that line joined a rune. Light pulsed over the completed symbol and his hand shook as the dildo vibrated in his grip, still silent despite the motion.

Kuri's eyes widened at the unexpected sight.

“Is this magical enough for your liking?” Donatient teased, letting the dildo throb away a moment longer before he twisted the base back to where it had begun and let the device still in his grip. Kuri stared in surprise and amazement until a gentle laugh from the elezen brought her back down to earth. “You look most interested, my dear.”

 _Interested_ was certainly one word for it, Kuri supposed. _Aroused_ might have been a better one, the coils in her core seething away and leaving her feel damp inside. She found herself glancing over her shoulder, but Donatient's tent had the flaps still down. No one could see that she was inside, much less what she was staring at. “That is not all it does, correct?” she asked, taking note of more segments with incomplete runes.

Donatient nodded. “Indeed, though some of the other functions are difficult to demonstrate adequately without _performing_.” He set the dildo back down. “Suffice to say, it would be gil well spent should you wish, an aid in the pursuit of your sexual ideal. I would never force it upon you, but if you accept, then I shall be full glad to have inducted you thus, Kuri Yumishi.”

The raen stood in place, eyeing it and wrestling between feelings of uncertainty on one side and desire on the other. Her fingers had been enough, sating her need, soothing her ache when it rose along with intimate dreams of strangers touching her in ways no one real ever had. But the way he spoke, the thoughts she had when he demonstrated the dildo in his tight grip made her imagine it inside her and that erotic flourish had her cheeks blazing.

Slowly Kuri reached out, a glance of golden eyes asking Donatient for permission that he granted with a warm smile. She picked up the dildo, testing its rubbery surface. At another time she might have asked what it was made from but that detail was far from her mind as she handled it with trembling fingers. Her breath hitched in her throat from sudden anxiety, her excited curiosity slamming against the rigid walls called propriety and tradition only to smash both like glass panes. Could she be sheltered from it all forever, truly? Her parents were _gone_ and her life was not theirs to mold and carve into a perfect tribute to Hingashi's dignified mores.

Not any more.

She set the dildo down to turn to Donatient and withdraw her coin purse from her satchel, counting out the gil as the elezen continued to smile. Once she had paid he retrieved a plain sackcloth bag from the table nearest the door, passing it to her for the dildo and its associated scroll to slip inside. “Much as I would see the world accepting of my wares,” he explained when she looked at him curiously, “cruel reality is a foe I cannot yet defeat and I would rather those who choose to seek greater pleasure not be judged by the yet ignorant.”

How poetic, she thought as she said a kind farewell and slipped out of the tent with her prize secured in her satchel. She did not believe she was spotted leaving and to some extent she did not care if she was, making for the Carline Canopy with haste. The first aethernet shard she found sent her back to the great tower of the aetheryte and from there she hurried down the slope along the riverbank. Mother Miounne was passed with a smile and a warm word as she sought the seclusion of her room, the knots in her belly coiling like a serpent, her folds wetter than she thought they had ever been already just from anticipation.

The door closed locked behind her and she stepped deeper into the comfort of her room. The orchestrion was silent but she turned it to something pleasing, mindful of the rooms that neighbored hers and occupants who might still be there. Laying the satchel down after retrieving the bag from within, Kuri pulled out the scroll first. She unlaced and slipped off her boots to lay on the bed, the backs of her horns digging into the pillow and her tail idly swishing beneath her legs as she perused the instructions within. She had thought the vibrator setting Donatient had demonstrated unthinkably erotic already, but reading the whole list of functions he had somehow enchanted the dildo with made her wonder just how naive she truly was.

Once she had read the list, she set the scroll aside and discarded the bag. The dildo rested in her hands, Kuri momentarily unsure how to proceed. She reached for the window and carefully drew her curtains, the sudden darkness thrilling in its own right. The archer felt _energized_ , thrilled by the boundaries she sought to cross and the depths she yearned to chart. Somehow the dildo represented some transition, from viewing her sexual acts as just a process to keep herself demure to something she might _enjoy_ , something to _relish_.

Leaving the dildo on her bed, Kuri stood and began to disrobe. She unlaced the tabard and let it slip down her arms to the floor, the shirt slowly drawn up over breast, neck and horned head to join it. Her skirt followed, leaving her in just a plain band at her breasts and equally simple panties below. Tail brushing on her legs she lay back on the bed, retrieving her new toy and rubbing a finger over her quim through the rough material of her smalls. She had done such many times before but with the dildo in her other hand the pleasure felt heightened. Broken taboo lay about her when she lowered the dildo to her sex and let the tip rub on her labia, gasping at the sensation.

Though the dildo was rubbery in texture it was rigid like rock, pressing hard against her folds as she rubbed it up and down, up and down slowly to drag out every new spark of pleasure its touch roused. She felt hot liquid pooling between her thighs, the beginnings of a fantasy weaving in her head as the alien feel of the artificial cock on her body ignited her mind. Her gasps deepening into groans, Kuri found herself yearning for more _touch_ , more pleasure with which to stoke her flame. A hand came to one covered breast and stroked circles across it with the tip of a finger, the auri archer laying her head back deep as she could to whimper away.

By the kami, even just rubbing away with her smalls between the dildo and her heat it felt more intense than anything she had ever ventured before. Her hand closed tight around her breast, Kuri gasping hard as she dug her fingers in until her sex throbbed in answer. Trembling fingers loosened only to seek the hem of her breast band and tug at it until that half of her bosom slipped free, a brown nipple hard atop its areola before it vanished beneath Kuri's palm to let the au ra grope at bare flesh.

Mind falling into the depths of pleasure and want, Kuri rubbed the dildo across the hem of her panties to rest just beneath her flat belly, feeling the merest trace of dampness where her need had soaked right through to coat the toy's tip. She slid it back down to slip beneath her smalls, the hard head parting her folds as it flowed down right to the base of her labia only to be dragged back up. Her panties bulged obscenely at its passage as she lifted her head to glance down, a groan of splendid ecstasy slamming it back into her pillow. Her tail scraped on her thigh, spikes tracing white marks into her skin that she barely took note of despite the pricks of pain. Waves of pleasure crashed through her with each stroke of the toy through her sex, especially when it brushed the hood that protected her pearl.

Hot breaths dragged from her throat, new sensations stirring her arousal to unseen heights as she writhed atop her covers. Kuri quickened the pace, and though she strained to adapt her folds parted willingly before each stroke to let levinbolts dance through her. Her eyes lidded, she brushed a russet strand from her eye and let her breast be a moment to reach for the dildo's base. Awkward as it was to fumble she could not bear to leave her quim untouched for even a moment, but she managed to twist the lower ring with its single runic line into place and saw the completed symbol light.

Immediately the head pulsed against her continuously, the sensation enough to make her back arch away from the sheets and her legs spread as though inviting an invisible lover to have every ilm of her. Trying to work her panties down one-handed, Kuri pressed the dildo deeper down her folds, relishing every pulse that made her entire body shake in answer. The warmth in her core had grown to the heights of a furnace through her efforts, surely working well toward her orgasm.

“Oh, kami,” she whimpered breathlessly, abandoning her smallclothes at her knees while her loins tightened and burned. She was _close_ , desperately, painfully _close_ , just a little more, just a little more-

Her freed hand tended her risen pearl, rubbing at it while she stroked the vibrating dildo up and down the lower half of her lips, imagining someone else's hands on her while she writhed and shuddered. The pressure in her grew toward its peak, ready to burst at any moment though she knew not when, lost in the depths of her pleasure.

“Please, please,” the raen whimpered with eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape as she panted her words. She scraped the dildo over her sodden petals then withdrew her dampened fingers to brush it across her clitoris with a squeeze of her bared breast. _So close_ , the vibrating toy circled her pearl and Kuri wailed at the ceiling, no longer sure if the music veiled her cries but finding that thought unbearably irrelevant as she slipped her hand to the covered breast and tugged at the pebbled nipple. Her hips bucked uncontrollably and her tail scraped over the covers, spines dangerously close to tearing the duvet in its wild lashes.

The russet-haired woman cried with a hoarse throat as a final touch to her pearl sent her soaring to the very heights of divine pleasure. Her hands continued their work, clutching her breasts, rubbing the dildo over her slit all while her slick sprayed to splash the covers and her tail. Her panties were not spared, stray drops leaving dark marks in the white cloth where they landed. Gasps and moans poured from her lips, her cheeks burning below her horns as she rode out her climax transcendent. She did not want it to end, never wanted to fall back to earth even though she knew she could not stay in such a state forever.

All too soon it ended, the dildo still shaking away between her folds while her breast rose and fell in deep gasps. Her whole body trembled as she wearily pulled the toy from her quim and carefully slid it back to its inert state, then letting her hands tumble back to the covers and simply lay there.

“By the kami,” she whispered into the music. Lingering ghosts of pleasure danced in her blood like sparks of levin, rousing her want slowly, reminding her that she still had much and more to try with Donatient's toy. Her mind whirled with the settings she had not touched yet, the setting that would make it slide in and out of her sex on its own as though a lover made love to her, another that somehow generated artificial seed from water to let her work the dildo to a play of release. However the elezen had enchanted the toy to do so much she would never know save a deep conversation that might well end up as something quite different, she fancied, and if that lay in her future it was a distant one indeed.

For now she was content with the relative simplicity of the dildo, Kuri thought. But in the future, who knew? Mayhap she would grow adventurous enough one day to try some of Donatient's _other_ wares.


	12. Never Want for Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Orgy  
> This takes place some time prior to Shadowbringers, but since it's decently in depth about a location, I'll note minor Shadowbringers spoilers to be safe

Eulmore ever sang with the constant sounds of pleasure.

The manifold sounds of the finest foods filling the bellies of the free. The splashing of the finest wine refilling their glasses over and over. Satisfied breaths when they sat on the finest cushions and lay atop bedding of the finest silks. Even the bonded servants shared their slice of the luxury and all rejoiced, offering thanks to Lord Vauthry.

Because of him, they were blessed to live their days in paradise where no other existed upon Norvrandt, upon the very star. Because of him, the sin eaters were their benevolent guardians rather than insatiable enemies. Because of him, they could care not for the morrow, only for whatever tickled their fancy _now_ without worry about where the next meal would come from or how they might protect themselves.

Truly, Eulmore was the city of pleasure, made and kept so by Lord Vauthry's wise and kind rule.

Atop the canopy in the Dame's Parlor, gazing out to sea, Leofric wore a constant smile and toasted Lord Vauthry with a raise of his goblet toward the ceiling beyond which Eulmore's ruler sat his throne. The hume had never _seen_ Lord Vauthry, never of merit enough to earn that honor, but since he was but a babe in arms he had heard the man's name spoken in prayer-like tones and come to know that he and those around him owed their privileged existence to Lord Vauthry's gracious offer of sanctuary.

The friends around him ate and drank in greater measure than was the norm, for it was an auspicious day, a nameday. Leofric glanced about the table with dusky blue eyes, black hair shaggy about his nape. To his left sat the lucky man himself, Bea-Tatch, a plump mystel with deep orange fur, his eyes the blue of fair skies. He wore a shirt and trousers of fine cloth dyed in purple, devouring his food with fervor and tapping his glass with a fork to summon a servant to pour more wine.

On Bea-Tatch's other side Leofric's eyes came to a woman taller than the both of them. In the time before Lord Vauthry Juddia might have been a soldier, but with his rule removing the misguided need to slay sin eaters she could instead devote herself to the pursuit of pleasure, an art which Leofric felt suited her far better. Her bust full and strong the galdjent woman wore a rich red dress that hugged her figure admirably, very much welcome to his eyes when he let his gaze wander a little.

Once he had had his fill of Juddia, the galdjent welcoming his stare at her curves by pressing her bosom up between her arms, Leofric moved on to her left. Directly across the table sat Leofric's closest of friends since they were children only just _beginning_ to sample the myriad pleasures afforded to Lord Vauthry's subjects. Alane sat radiant in the sunlight, her violet hair falling over her pointed ears to flow over her shoulders and joy sparkling in ruby irises as she drank deep of her wine. Her gown gave him a generous view of her cleavage across the table, the elf giving him a promising grin when she caught his look and mouthing “soon”.

His own smile wider Leofric continued around to find a third man watching him admire the women with a wry grin between his horns. In a different place and time before the Light, Franden could well have been a prince or king of lost Voeburt. His jaw chiseled and strong with black horns falling to sheath the sides of his throat, his regal gold gaze fierce and commanding. And _command_ he did, Leofric's thoughts purred as he and the drahn leered at one another in anticipation, Franden brushing bangs of stark white across his forehead with a smirk. The drahn barely needed his fine white suit, he could have stood naked as his nameday and commanded the same presence, though of course he would pale in comparison to Lord Vauthry.

The final member of their circle sat meekly at Leofric's right, buried in her food and wine. Ruina's silvery ears crowned the same-hued braids that fell either side of her face, the viis occasionally venturing a glance with teal eyes over the rim of her glass. Unlike the other two women she wore a suit of dark black, the first time she had ventured over Leofric had mistaken her for a bonded citizen and it was only when he tried to get her to refill his wine in the midst of flirting that he discovered his mistake. He still oft wondered _why_ she had ever approached them, she was demure and reserved such that it was a struggle to get more than a few words from her at times.

Their plates soon all lay empty, conversation flowing like their wine, pleasant and full of laughter save for Ruina's quiet observation. Her eyes strayed to him often, glancing away swift as levin if she caught him noticing her. Leofric wondered if she would stay for the grand finale of these celebrations, every time he had tried to invite her to join _that_ particular party she always excused herself shyly, but her gaze seemed more intense and her cheeks flushed red with wine.

A fork rang against a glass, Franden's glass, naturally. The drahn's golden eyes looked each of them in their own, everyone grinning with anticipation as he nodded to Bea-Tatch. “We celebrate your nameday, Bea. It is only right that you speak.”

The fire-furred mystel slowly stood up, chair scraping back on the parlor's floor loud enough to draw irritated glances from other patrons as he spoke. “My friends. Thank you all for joining me to celebrate. Leofric, Ruina, Franden, Alane, Juddia.” He beamed at each and every one of them in turn, Ruina glancing downward meekly with a little smile of her own. “And of course,” he raised his glass, “I give thanks to Lord Vauthry, to whom we owe each and every pleasure we experience and the bliss that need never end.” A toast was raised to the ceiling, six glasses clinking.

“To Lord Vauthry,” they chorused, even Ruina joining in with a meek cheer.

“We have feasted and drank to contentment, but one final pleasure yet awaits us,” Bea-Tatch said, lowering his gaze back to the circle. Leofric grinned wide with a meaningful look at Alane. “Come with me and let us join in a bond stronger than friendship once again.” Their chairs scraped on the tiles as they rose, carrying half-full glasses with them as they began the walk toward a room they knew well. Ruina stayed seated and he lingered to meet her gaze.

“Not joining us?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

The viis fidgeted. “I-I would rather-”

“Go and sit alone?” Leofric pressed, her blush glowing brighter at the challenge and her ears drooping a little. “Blessed white, it's Bea's nameday, Ruina. Even today of all days you would _abandon_ us?”

“N-no, I just-”

“Come on,” the hume grinned at her, extending a hand as Alane called to him. “I'll be right there, go ahead!”

Ruina's fingers weaved in and out in her lap, the viis eyeing his hand as though she had sincerely wanted him to reach to her, yet something about it made her hesitant still. He reached a little closer and at last she seemed to surrender, her own hand taking his and letting him pull her up from her chair. The silver-haired viis slowed to take her wine and followed him hand-in-hand with her eyes brighter every time he looked back.

Down staircases and over luxurious carpets they flowed, chasing the four who had not waited until they made pace. Franden greeted them with booming laughter, slapping them on the shoulders. Leofric smirked at him while Ruina flinched but kept her fingers tight on his hand. Another flight of stairs passed and they turned and they passed inward through a door, finding a guard waiting on the other side and a corridor lined with six more doors past her. The galdjent stood taller than even Franden and Juddia, dressed in the purple armor of the army with a bastard sword beneath his hands resting its point on the stone. He eyed the six of them with honed eyes, even if Eulmore dedicated itself to pleasure, General Ran'jit evidently still had his troops hardened and sharpened.

Not that Leofric understood why the old man and his soldiers were still needed when surely Lord Vauthry could see off any threat with all his might, but if Lord Vauthry willed it so then it must be correct.

“Six of you, Franden?” the galdjent guard asked with a chuckle just beneath the steel of discipline, receiving Franden's keen nod. “Enjoy yourselves. There are four in room one, but the rest are up for the taking.” As they passed him to file into the first door on the right, Leofric idly wondered if the galdjent, who _always_ seemed to be there, ever felt aroused by what happened not more than a few yalms from him. The walls were thick and solid, but even so surely he had to hear something on occasion.

That thought was swiftly torn from his mind once they stepped into a new aspect of paradise. Purple and white in harmony, soft rug beneath their feet purple, curtains of purple-trimmed white hung over the walls to disguise white stone. Several recliners lay scattered around the room adorned with rich cushions, ready to support them in whatever positions they chose to take, and with no windows lamps lit every corner instead. This was a room for comfort and intimacy of the highest order.

For of course, a city devoted to pleasure would not be complete if it did not cater to _sexual_ pleasure, Leofric noted. The Beehive up in the Canopy allowed any and all the opportunity to seek that in whichever form they wished, the honeybees eager to serve, but for those who would share themselves with more than one other Lord Vauthry had the wisdom and the foresight to set these rooms aside. In these spaces, all could be laid bare and all inhibitions cast aside, and he had had the pleasure of that on many an occasion with his friends.

But never with _you_ , he thought, eyes coming to the silver-haired viis who still held his hand. Ruina glanced about with hesitant eyes, she surely knew what they would do in this place but somehow she still seemed torn.

“Relax,” the hume pressed gently, meeting her eyes when they fell on him at the sound of his voice. Ruina nodded but did not speak as he closed the door behind them, the other four already close in anticipation, glasses placed on tables.

Fittingly it was Bea-Tatch who began by pressing a hungry kiss to Franden's lips, the drahn clutching the mystel tight as their bodies rubbed against each other in want. When they broke apart, panting already, Juddia and Alane swooped in to join the melee of lips and tongues, a four-sided embrace that made Leofric grin with bared teeth. When he tugged his eyes from their caressing to check on Ruina, her fingers clenching tight on his, the viis watched with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Why did you never join us?” the hume asked softly.

“Come on, Leofric!” Alane jeered, Bea-Tatch's hand at her breast and eagerly kneading through her disheveled gown. “If she wants to just _watch_ forlorn, then let her!” The elf's voice vanished into muffled groans as the mystel tackled her down to a recliner, his mouth fierce on hers as he continued to grope. Laughing and shooting Leofric a burning look, Franden lavished his attention on Juddia, the galdjent letting him tug down her dress to unveil a lacy bra while she savaged his lips with a hand on one of his horns.

Leofric ached to join, cock throbbing with arousal at the sight of them losing themselves. He wanted to jump in, wanted their hands on him and their tongues in his mouth. Wanted their moans in his ear and all around him, but still Ruina's hand held his and reluctantly he looked away from where they all began to undress each other to regard her. Still she watched, until she caught him looking and met his eyes instead. Something lit within them and she leaned closer, trembling though whether from nervousness or anticipation he could not tell.

“I wanted to try,” the viis admitted, her free hand nervously toying with a braid. “I wanted _you_. But I never had a moment with just you, only the others always.” Her eyes drooped like her ears, irises pointing somewhere around his feet. “I am curious, I admit, but it always seemed so overwhelming. All of you at once...”

Leofric brought a hand to the side of her face, rubbing fingers up and down as she sighed contentedly. Gently he lifted her head so she was looking at him. “I hoped you would join us one day,” he smiled. “If we move too quickly, if we make you uncomfortable, Ruina, you need but say and I will take care of you. Even if you want to leave, I accept it.”

The viis smiled with damp eyes. “Thank you, Leofric.”

Rather than put the sentiment into words he took her lips in a hot kiss instead, her body relaxing into his hold and her hands coming to his shoulders. He felt at her, every slender curve, the light swell of her breasts, her firm rear all while she moaned into his mouth as though she had waited months if not years to feel him against her. The viis wandered her hands over him until clapping and cheering made them pull apart. At some point the couples had swapped again, Franden and Bea-Tatch both shirtless as they lounged on one recliner, Alane down to her lingerie and Juddia's dress at her hips with her bra gone. All four looked at the hume and viis with smirks and grins.

“Now whatever is this?” Franden jeered, fingers trailing down the mystel's chest as Bea kissed at the drahn's neck. “A private pairing, Leofric?”

“No.” Ruina spoke before Leofric could, to collective surprise as the kissing stopped to let everyone look at her. “I will join you all and pay my dues to Bea on his special day. All I ask is that you be patient with me.”

“Leave her be, Franden,” Alane spoke up, whimpering at the feel of Juddia's lips sucking on her jaw. The galdjent had a finger stroking up and down where the elf's thighs met, making the violet-haired woman tip her head back with soft moans.

Chastised, the drahn merely shrugged at Leofric and Ruina before turning his full attention to Bea. A strong hand came to the mystel's tight trousers, groping at the bulge until Bea groaned and his tail scraped over the recliner.

“Shall we?” Leofric asked, grinning wide, and Ruina nodded with her own little smile. They moved to a recliner of their own, fully joining the proceedings. Clothes fell to the floor around them, more and more skin on show as they too began to disrobe. Leofric did so faster, down to naught but his smallclothes while Ruina was slower to undress. He helped her, unbuttoning her shirt and slipping it down her arms while he buried kisses in the hollow of her neck, then dropping to his knees to take off her skirt.

Lithe arms wrapped around Ruina from behind, making the viis jump as Alane's head fell on her shoulder. “Tis good to have you with us, Ruina,” the elf purred with a brush of her lips on Ruina's cheek. “May I join you? Juddia has left me all neglected.” Curious, Leofric glanced around the pair to see Bea sat on the recliner naked as his first nameday, cock hard and on show while Juddia and Franden battled on their knees to see who could best serve the mystel with lips and tongues. His hands pressed on their heads while their own caressed one another, Juddia clearly stroking the drahn's girthy member while his fingers teased at her bare rump.

“Y-yes,” Ruina whimpered, bringing the hume back to the beautiful pair right before him while Alane kissed down the curve of the viis's jaw. The arms that circled Ruina's waist loosened to reach for him, pulling the three into a sandwich with the silver-haired woman between them and receiving both their kisses eagerly. Leofric tended her plump lips, tongue passing between them to explore her mouth while Alane kissed and caressed them both eagerly. The hume groaned into Ruina's mouth as the elf's fingers came to tease his hard member and Ruina's damp panties at once, rubbing between the two as their hips drew close to seek more pleasure.

“May we see all of you?” Leofric asked Ruina, Alane drawing back just enough to unlace her bra and give them a modicum of space.

“Please,” the viis murmured, and as soon as Alane's bra fell to the carpet his eyes met hers and they moved together. Kisses worked down Ruina's skin on chest and back, Alane easily working off the viis's bra to let Leofric take it in his teeth and pull it free of her chest. Her breasts were meek and petite, dwarfed by Alane and Juddia's, but even so he buried his face against them and let his kisses promise how much he adored them. Soft whines left her throat, her hands stroking at his hair as she begged him to keep going. With his mouth occupied his hands followed Alane down the viis, their fingers brushing in the hem of Ruina's panties and working together to lay bare a neat silver bush over thin labia.

“Beautiful,” Alane purred as she pressed a kiss to one buttock, Ruina yelping in surprise while the elf's hands circled her thighs. Deep moans and groans rang from the other side of the room but Leofric could not bring himself to look no matter how curious he was, lost in the new joy of Ruina's beautiful bare body, one hand now joining Alane's to chart the viis's folds and make her sing a song they had never heard. She sang in whimpers and whines, moans and groans, his name tumbling over her lips more than Alane's, but the silver-haired woman began to plant kisses on both of them with turns of her neck.

Fingers wrapped into Leofric's tight smalls and tugged, a glance down finding them to be Ruina's and a look up seeing an enraptured smile on the viis's face.

“May I?” she asked, as though his cock wasn't already straining to spring free with the hem passing lower. The hume nodded enthusiastically into her bosom, teeth nipping at soft titflesh to steal a gasp from her. Blessed white, it had been so long, yet the wait seemed a paltry thing now that she lay bare to him in her entirety. He found himself hoping to take time to themselves later, he longed to explore her without the pressure of the others and the occasion.

His cock stood at full mast once Ruina worked his smalls down enough to release it, her gentle fingers wrapping around the shaft and slowly working up and down. He groaned into her cleavage, nipping around to suckle on one pebbled nipple with her breath hot in his hair.

“Blessed white,” the viis whimpered, their combined attentions leaving her legs trembling. Leofric carefully moved them, he and Alane pulling away to let Ruina lay on the recliner with her legs spread. Every ilm of her lay exposed for them, a smile on her lips and her teal eyes sparkling with joy. Alane hung back a moment to relieve herself of her panties while Leofric could not bear to wait, diving to his knees and burying his face between Ruina's thighs. “Oh, Leofric!”

For a moment she was all his, his mouth running along one slick thigh and through her sodden bush to plant a kiss on her labia. As Alane joined him, trailing her own kisses along Ruina's other thigh while her hand found his throbbing member and worked to relieve his ache, they joined forces once more. Tongues stroked in tandem, brushing through the viis's petals and on one another while Ruina wailed under their care. Praise Lord Vauthry, he thought in a delirious haze of joy. Praise him, for it is by his grace that we are here.

A rough scaly hand closed on his shoulder, tugging him away from Ruina's nectar though he strained to stay in place. Alane's hand on his member was forced to let go and suddenly deprived Leofric found himself face to face with a leering Franden.

“I thought it clear that this was Bea's day,” the drahn hissed playfully. “And yet you seem so utterly devoted to Ruina. Surely you do not mean to insult the man of honor?”

“Oh no, not at all,” Leofric purred back, casting Ruina an apologetic glance. The viis could only smile a moment before Alane's tongue in her sex left her writhing in pleasure atop the silk. “My apologies, Franden.”

The drahn laughed, black scales on his cheeks rippling as his lips brushed on the hume's nose. Scaled fingers rubbed on Leofric's cock and he whimpered at the sensation. Blessed white, the things Franden did to him...

The drahn led him across the room to where Juddia stradded Bea wearing only a sinfully thin lace thong pulled to the side, his cock deep in her cunt, the mystel's face buried in her voluptuous tits as she rode him and screamed in delight. “Oh blessed white, blessed white!” the galdjent cried. “Yes yes, like that Bea, fuck me harder!” Whatever Bea answered was muffled by her bosom, the orange-furred man's tail a flicker of motion as it lashed at his side.

“The man of honor seems rather occupied,” Leofric deadpanned with a smoldering glance at Franden. “You wouldn't leave me just _watching_ , would you?”

Before he knew it he was pressed hard on a recliner and Franden was atop him, those golden eyes fierce and hungry. Strong lips took his own while the drahn's blunted horns brushed his neck, a hand seeking Leofric's cock and running those incredible scales over the head until he could only whine into Franden's mouth for more. His legs came up to wrap on the other man's hips, desperate for what he knew Franden wanted of him. “Juddia is a delight and Bea keen,” the drahn growled, “but tis _you_ I enjoy most and you have neglected me in favor of your new _wench_ , Leofric.” Snarling his teeth scraped on Leofric's neck, pressing to the lump in his throat while the white-haired man brushed their rock hard cocks together between his fingers.

“Franden,” Leofric groaned, spreading himself desperately. He was so pent, a glance at Alane and Ruina finding the two watching intently with fingers buried in each other, and that glorious sight made his cock throb harder against the drahn's. A predatory snarl left Franden's throat at the buck of their hips, balls scraping together and shafts oozing pre on each other. “Surely you will not have me before Bea does?”

A dragon's eyes stared back, hot and hungry beyond measure. “Bea is _occupied_ ,” the drahn purred, Leofric chuckling at his own words being thrown back at him. “Juddia will keep him a while and Alane will tend Ruina while I have my fill of you.” One strong hand quested to the table near them, snatching a doubtless pre-placed phial. Leofric's hips shuddered at the mere sight, their members scraping between the drahn's fingers to tug growls from both their mouths. Another look at Alane and Ruina found the pair laid facing the other four with the viis's face buried between the elf's legs, the latter watching upside down with a delirious smirk and hungry eyes.

“She's taken to it well,” Leofric mused aloud, Franden following his gaze with a chuckle.

“Look at me,” the drahn hissed, snapping back to that dragonic visage. “I want to see your face while I have you.” Rough kisses nearly bruised Leofric's jaw as Franden dismounted, the hume grasping his cock and stroking slowly to relieve that throbbing ache in his loins. Clear liquid poured from the phial onto thick fingers, glistening in the lamplight when Franden teasingly held up his hand. Then those fingers were rubbing into his arse, the cool oil making Leofric groan and shiver as the drahn prepared him. Kisses ran up the hume's shaft while the golden-eyed man worked, scraping his tongue over the head until a bead of pre collected on Leofric's very tip.

“Franden,” he whimpered, feeling a finger slip inside him.

“The fun we shall have,” the drahn rumbled, kisses falling off of Leofric's cock to scrape on his stomach instead. “I can already see it, mmm, my cock in you while yours is in her.” Leofric pictured that glorious image, oh _blessed white_ her moans with every thrust deep into her doubtless tight heat, his hips pulling back to let Franden's cock take him _deep_. “I think you like the sound of that.” Another finger and Leofric cried out, the digits brushing on sensitive flesh.

“Yes! Oh blessed white yes Franden!” he whined, a smirk of victory on the drahn's lips. Shaking in pleasure Leofric cast another look about, Bea on top of Juddia now with his cock furiously rutting into her tits, Ruina straddling Alane's head while she watched the drahn prepare to bury himself in Leofric. He expected her to frown or pout, but the captivated look in her wide eyes made him long to see if the fantasy Franden described would become reality.

“Prepared enough?” the drahn hissed, though he already poured oil onto his hard cock and lubed it with caressing fingers. Leofric nodded desperately, voice lost in his aching need, and the fingers left his hole to grip one of his spread legs. Franden's shaft scraped up, a slick trail left in its wake as it found its mark and slowly pressed in. His head hit a cushion as it fell back, a deep groan reverberating in his throat as the white-haired man filled him with his girth scraping on sensitive inner walls. Leofric's cock throbbed harder and harder as Franden took him all the way to the hilt and let their hips meet before they rested.

“Blessed white,” Leofric whimpered, the cry the only thing in his mind when Franden pulled back, leaning forward to stare into the hume's eyes with those intense golden irises full of lust and flame.

“She watches,” the drahn purred, and drove his cock back in a tad faster. Leofric cried out as it struck him in his most delicate place, body trembling. “Your _wench_ , her eyes on my cock in your arse, Leofric. Oh, how she loves the sight of it.” Out then in, Leofric groaned the drahn's name. “Shall I beckon her over, let her touch herself while she watches closely?”

Leofric panted as another thrust found his spot, eyes lidding, head tipping into a nod. When he opened his eyes again Franden leered from above and took him all the way harder, the hume's back arching and his hand fervent on his cock. “Franden, please, please-”

The golden-eyed man looked at Ruina again, tongue scraping over his lips as he fucked Leofric. Blue eyes followed the gold, finding the viis staring intently while Alane lavished her breasts with kisses and fingered at her slit. “Whatever should she do?” Franden growled, his blood running hot and his hands digging into Leofric's sides while he rutted like a beast in heat. “Come sit your face so she can _feel_ how well I take you by how you moan and wail? Tend to your cock and then clean your mess once we are finished? Or shall we both have you at once, mayhap she will let only you be first to _seed_ her cunt.” Leofric whimpered at all the images, blessed white, he wanted her to join them, longed to include her, but he knew not if Franden was serious or just trying to stoke his arousal hotter.

Somewhere past Franden Bea wailed in orgasmic joy and Juddia gasped loud. “Yes Bea, that's it, give me your seed! Every last drop on my tits!”

“Y-yes!” the mystel panted. Leofric longed to see them, sure that Juddia looked thoroughly debauched with his seed all over her magnificent bust. But Franden and Ruina occupied all of his attention as he looked between the two and his groaning gasps lifted toward ecstatic screams. Franden fucked him mercilessly, confident that his arse could take the punishment his relentless thrusting dealt out. Meanwhile Ruina pushed past Alane, thighs glistening with her slick as she made for where the drahn used him. Her fingers descended into her honey, rubbing as Alane trailed lustfully after her.

“Oh, she comes for you,” Franden leered, voice a husky snarl. “Mayhap I should let her have your seed?” Leofric whined between wails as the hard cock inside him massaged his spot, mind full of Ruina with dripping white on those petite breasts, dripping from her face, on her tongue as she licked it up. The thought made him throb.

“ _Please_ Franden,” he groaned. Ruina was a step away, fascinated, eyes brilliant. Behind her Alane perhaps sought easier prey, drifting over to where Bea and Juddia doubtless recovered.

“How about it, Ruina?” the drahn hissed, not stopping while he spoke to her. “Do you long to receive his cum?”

She hesitated, perhaps struck by the bluntness of his growl, but then she nodded. Teal eyes met dark blue and she smiled.

Franden's cock scraped out of Leofric's abused arse, the hume blinking at the sudden emptiness inside him. His hand still worked his cock, blessed white he was so very close and her presence only pushed him another step toward that glorious fall.

“Kneel,” Franden commanded, looming over Ruina, and she slipped to her knees with a longing look at Leofric. Knowing how the drahn saw this ending and desperate to do his part, he rose in a hurry to stand before her as well. Their pre-slick cocks throbbed before her face, balls tight and heavy with pent up seed. Slowly the viis reached out, taking one shaft in each hand and stroking, Leofric groaning as a satisfied growl left Franden's lips. The golden eyes wandered over Ruina's bare body while the dark blue stayed on her teal, seeing the hesitation of inexperience give way to the sheer joy at handling their members so and anticipation at how this would finish.

Franden had worked both men so close to their climax that they could never have lasted long. Juddia and Alane would have already had their seed spilled, much more versed in pleasuring Leofric and Franden, but the new sensation of Ruina's fingers still worked in her favor to make their hips thrust into her grasp.

“Ruina,” Leofric groaned, feeling himself tighten. “I-” The viis stroked faster, lips brushing on his tip in a kiss then doing the same from Franden as her eyes lidded in preparation.

“Go on,” the drahn growled. “Bathe in our seed. Revel in it, Ruina. Be one of us.” The soft fingers tightened and both men groaned and moaned, a final thrust of their hips in near synch, the pressure in their loins finally giving way. Franden came first, of course, a thick gush of white splattering onto her nose, then Leofric painted a puddle onto her cheek. It had been some time since they had last spent themselves and so they drenched Ruina in their pooled release, her face, hair and ears painted stark thick white, clumps dripping from her jaw to splatter on her collarbone and breasts. Some slipped between her lips and she drank it down, a groan of aroused approval leaving Franden at that delightful side.

When their climaxes ended she was left so stained that Leofric would have sworn that the thick white ran from her eyes, her nose and her mouth. She panted for breath with mouth wide open, tongue lapping white stains from around her mouth one hand wiped her eyes clean. The other released Leofric's softening shaft to seek her sodden cunt, digging her fingers in with a whimper. The hume knelt beside her, leaning in to lap cum from her face while the drahn leered at them. Tongues brushed and shared the thick release, his fingers joining hers to work at her sex.

“We are not finished,” Franden purred into Leofric's ear, the hume paying him as little mind as he could. “Take a moment with her, by all means, and then we shall continue.” If Ruina heard the drahn she certainly did not care, continuing to finger herself to orgasm and share the salty seed with Leofric. She did not last much longer, climaxing with a scream of his name into his mouth. As she writhed in heavenly pleasure their faces brushed to leave his stained with white as well, the hume tending her through her release and feeling her slick coat their fingers.

They lay on the rug a while after, cleaning one another with gentle licks, tasting her nectar off each others' fingers while they listened to the others making love as a foursome nearby. Their eyes were brilliant, their mouths set in ecstatic grins as they cuddled close.

Leofric kissed her and offered thanks to Lord Vauthry in his thoughts for all that was theirs. This pleasure, this comfort, this joy. Truly, beneath his immaculate rule, they would never want for bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to the users in this thread for the First naming convention thoughts I used to name most of these guys: https://forum.square-enix.com/ffxiv/threads/395327-Naming-conventions-of-the-first-%28research-speculations%29


	13. A Craven's Use

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Humiliation  
> The consent in this one is extremely sketchy delving into non-con, be warned.

Fog hung thick amid stone and tree, Naeve picking through familiar forest as though it were a bright, sunny day. She could have walked the path with eyes closed, could have picked out the sentries who watched for Garlean scouts and returning resistance fighters alike. Her clothes were ragged and seared, breastplate dented and crusted with dried blood. Her leggings lay tattered from the clutch of wire and the gunblade bullets that had clipped her in passing. But she was alive.

So many were not.

The blonde viera staggered through thickets and the fog revealed a sign carved on a tree. It would have seemed mundane to most, perhaps some local declaration, but she knew it to mean she was close. Sure enough another few minutes of walking saw her emerge into a clearing ringed by thick bushes, tents laying camouflaged by mud, branches and leaves to guard against the gunships that sometimes patrolled high overhead.

As Naeve stepped into the clearing's centre, feeling dozens of eyes on her, her brothers and sisters emerged. Their uniforms were chaotic, old soldiers in their plate mingling with fresh faces in little more than tunics and trousers. Naeve herself was mostly the latter, the clothes she had worn under another name unsuited to combat and uncomfortably revealing. The viera's ears twitched a little, picking up whispers and hisses.

“How dare she come back here-”

“Coward!”

“Deserter!”

She looked around with frightened eyes, their scorn plain to her ears and their own gazes fierce. A stone flew from a tent to clatter by her feet.

“How can you just stand there?!” July cried, green eyes burning as she glared at Naeve. “You think we didn't hear? You _ran away_ while the others gave their lives bravely with Dalmasca's name on their lips!” Another stone flew and hit Naeve's arm hard enough to bruise, her fingers clutching the spot as numb blue eyes stared in pain.

“Yes,” the viera whispered.

“Enough.” The cold voice was like water poured on the flames of July's fury, making them simmer down to embers as she scrambled to attention. Naeve could only gape in shock as another viera stepped forth, her skin the chocolate dark to Naeve's snowy light, her hair and ears jet black. Eyes the hue of amber looked Naeve up and down with icy disdain, the woman dressed in stockings and a leathery black leotard that cut open to bare the top of her bust. Her shoes ended in sharp black claws, the prints she trod in the soil like those of a predator cat, the sword at her hip swaying with every step.

“Ember,” Naeve breathed as the rava drew close.

“ _Captain_ to you,” Ember retorted, burning eyes hard as she stopped before the disgraced soldier. “Why did you come back here?”

Why _had_ she? Naeve struggled for a reason, but found nothing before their bitter eyes. Teeth pressed on her lip as she looked down at Ember's clawed shoes, unable to hold the rava's eyes.

“I asked you a question,” the captain said, voice seething.

“I was afraid.” The truth slipped out, shameful, acid on her throat that left the admission less than a whisper.

Ember's ears twitched, her eyes narrowing. Naeve felt them like daggers in her throat, every eye a point digging hard into her skin and impaling her with shame. “What did you say? You spoke too softly.”

Naeve's eyes watered, their stares overwhelming her but she knew that to ask for reprieve was fruitless at best, to be punished at worst. She cleared her throat though it still felt like a lump blocked it. “I was afraid,” she said, louder than she meant to.

“You were afraid,” the amber-eyed viera repeated with a flash of clenched teeth. “And so you _broke_. _Ran_. _Deserted_ your post.”

“There was naught I could do,” Naeve protested weakly, her own shame undermining her defenses until they might as well have been panes of cracked glass. “The Garleans were too many, too fierce, too well armed-”

“And yet your comrades fought bravely!” Ember's repressed anger bubbled into full fury for a moment, forcing the veena back a step with eyes wide. “ _Died_ bravely, in the name of Princess Ashelia, Prince Rasler and Dalmasca, while you wept and ran!” Naeve tried to step forward again but a dark hand found her shoulder and pushed her. The veena stumbled, almost toppling over but catching herself at the last.

“I-”

“Did you not leave your home to serve Dalmasca?!” Ember accused, a finger stabbing at Naeve's collar. “Did you not cast aside name and village to fight Garlemald?!”

“Yes!” Naeve cried in answer, remembering the fire that had burned in her blood when she shed her forest name and marched to join the resistance. How weakly it glowed now in the face of reality and the rava captain's fury.

The dark-skinned viera shook her head furiously. “I told you the meaning of my name once. Ember, for that was all that remained of my village once Garlemald was done with it, all that will remain of Dalmasca once they are finished if we should fail. Praise the gods that your ilk are few and far between.” Her eyes narrowed as she glared. “You are no soldier, _craven_. I know not what madness brought you back here when you surely know the penalty for desertion is death.” She reached toward her sword and Naeve froze, watching the rava's fingers stop just short of the hilt. A cold, cruel smile played over Ember's lips and her hand retreated from the sword.

“C-captain?” Naeve murmured, confused and intimidated.

“I suppose you _did_ come back, and a deserter would have fled as far from us as she could,” Ember mused. “But you are certainly no soldier. That breastplate is too good for you. Take it off.” Naeve stared at her uncertainly until the rava's fingers came back to her blade's hilt. “I shan't repeat myself, Naeve. Take it off or else I shall cut it from you with no care for if my blade nicks flesh.” Trembling Naeve undid the knots that held the breastplate, setting it down on the ground. She was dangerously close to those clawed shoes for a moment before she rose with head bowed. Every eye was on her, shaming, scorning. Mercifully Ember's hand left her sword, arms folding beneath the rava's bust.

“Please,” the blonde viera whispered, ears drooping. “Forgive me.”

A furious shake of Ember's head crushed that hope. “Forgiveness is _earned_ and you have much of it to work for. What would you do to earn it, _coward_? To erase the stain of your flight?” Her words were swords in Naeve's heart, burning at her as she dared to try and meet the disgusted gaze. She could not bear to hold Ember's eyes, immediately sinking her head back down.

“Anything,” the veena breathed.

The cruel smile showed teeth. “Anything?” Ember repeated, and cast her gaze across their comrades. Or, rather, _her_ comrades, for they certainly saw Naeve as nothing such. “Did you all hear that? She would do _anything_ to atone for her cowardice.” Chuckles and laughter rang across the clearing as Ember turned amber irises back over Naeve's pale skin. “Then I have the perfect use for you in these trying times. Though most are made of sterner stuff than a craven such as you, morale is ever an officer's concern, and you might assist me in keeping it high.” The smirk the rava wore almost scared Naeve more than any Garlean magitek ever could, but any thought of flight was put to rest by a bitter determination. She would not run away again. _Never_ again. “Strip. You do not deserve to count among our ranks.” Naeve made to protest, but the vicious eyes struck her dumb. “ _Anything_ ,” Ember crooned coldly.

The trembling hands tugged on her tunic, pulling it up ilm by ilm. She hesitated as it reached the bottom of her breast band, but Ember's eyes were merciless in their stare and the veena continued. Whistles and jeers sang out, Ember not moving an ilm or making the slightest sound to get the troops in line. On the contrary, she seemed to greatly enjoy watching Naeve squirm as the tunic pulled free of her ears. She made to lay it on the ground, but the rava's fingers dug into her shoulder hard.

“A soldier will have use for that,” the captain declared, and she beckoned a smirking hyur woman over. “See that those garments are folded neatly, Naeve.” The veena nodded and obliged, sure her cheeks were crimson in shame and the feeling of eyes scouring her skin. Once she had handed the tunic over, she glanced back at Ember. “Continue.” Her boots came off, then the leggings went next to leave her in her smalls, more whistles, more cheers, more catcalls that the captain did nothing to stop. Naeve laid the folded bottoms atop the tunic and handed the hyur the boots. The ground bit at her soles, a stone under her foot digging in, but she dared not shift about.

Ember looked her up and down with that vicious smirk. Her arms unfolded once more and she reached out, fingers running on Naeve's neck. “What a fine woman,” she purred. “A shame about the craven heart.” As if to accentuate her point her fingers flew down to grope at Naeve's breast hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs, the snowy-skinned blonde whimpering as she gasped for breath.

“Captain-”

“Come, let us see how fit you are for your _new_ purpose,” Ember smirked. Catching her meaning Naeve shuddered, but at the same time, an obscene thrill stirred in her loins at the thought. She felt _sick_ at herself for the reaction, but it was undeniable even as she worked her fingers untying the band about her chest. Assuming Ember's previous command still applied she folded it neatly once it fell away and handed it to the hyur, both women before her openly admiring her breasts. They did not compare to Ember's, the rava's chest swelled magnificently, but even so she caught the captain running her tongue over her lips. “Continue.”

Naeve bowed her head, every degrading shout burning in her ears as she tugged at her panties.

“Nice tits, Naeve!”

“I'm going to enjoy this!”

“I hope you like the taste of seed!”

The black smallclothes slid away and off her ankles, but before she could fold them Ember had snatched them from her grasp. The rava's fingers brushed over them and the smirk split into a mocking laugh. “Ah, she is _wet_!” A chorus of laughter rang in Naeve's ears. “She really was _made_ for this!” She tossed the panties in Naeve's face, the scent of her own filthy arousal lingering in her nostrils as she meekly folded the smalls and passed them to the hyur. “See those are put away and then do return,” Ember purred. “I would not want you to miss this, Autumn.” The hyur could not salute with her hands full, but she did nod and smile before bustling away at haste.

Ember circled Naeve like a tiger with its prey, her eyes fierce as the veena shrank before her. Fingers freely ran over the blonde's skin, pinching at hardening nipples, stroking through her blonde bush to tease across damp labia. “By all means,” the captain spoke to her audience, “enjoy yourselves. Touch yourselves, should you wish. Lay your eyes on every ilm of her to your heart's content.” Naeve dared to look about, seeing hands descend into smalls to stroke and finger. “Even a craven such as you may serve the resistance,” Ember said, stopping at Naeve's front and lifting her chin with a finger to glare into the veena's eyes. “War is worst of all the seven hells, so they say. Minds fray and crack, but most hold firm, unlike _you_. So tis only fitting that you soothe your betters, Naeve. Let them sate themselves in you.”

She could not speak, so she shamefully nodded her answer.

“I want to hear you _admit_ it,” Ember hissed, holding her audience rapt even as they touched themselves to Naeve's nakedness.

“I am a coward,” Naeve whispered, humiliated, broken, yet her loins ached more fiercely as the words poured out. “Fit only to be used by my betters. To be balm for the aches of true soldiers.”

A satisfied purr left the captain's lips. “I believe as ranking officer, the right of first use is mine?” A chorus of assent rang out and she stepped right into Naeve's face. A hand went down between the veena's legs, trailing on her slick thighs. “How you _long_ to be used.” Two fingers parted Naeve's folds, sliding right in without thought of her comfort so she cried out and her eyes went wide. The captain fingered her hard and relentlessly, more of Naeve's dampness leaking on her thighs and Ember's hand as she wailed then screamed in earnest. When her wild eyes crossed their audience she found them watching enraptured, their pleasure at her misery plain in how their smalls were down to let them openly touch themselves before her.

“C-captain-” she whimpered, but Ember pushed a third finger into her and her words died in a new surge of perverse pleasure. At this rate she would spend herself on Ember's dusky hand and the captain knew it, ripping her fingers free of Naeve's sex just as her hips began to buck. Worn out she collapsed to her knees and felt the dirt cake her shins, breasts heaving. Ember's dry hand gripped her chin so hard that surely she would bruise, forcing the nude veena's head back up while the soaked fingers descended.

“Open,” Ember ordered, loosening her grip so Naeve could comply. Fingers pressed into her mouth. “Clean them.” Whimpering Naeve lapped at the captain's digits, the taste of her own slick stuck to her tongue even after Ember was satisfied and left her to pant in the dirt. “Satisfactory, thus far,” the rava purred. “Mayhap you were always meant to be a _slut_ rather than a soldier.” Naeve whined wordlessly as the hand at her chin flowed up to her hair, almost gently running over her ear until her eyes lidded. “But one last test, I think.” The rava stepped back with a smirk, hands coming to the straps of her leotard. She tugged them off her shoulders, the soldiers and Naeve watching rapt as the garment peeled down her body. Magnificent breasts lay bared, the captain's nipples firm at their peaks. Over her taut stomach the leotard fell, all the way until it slid past her sex. Somehow her disrobing was dignified, not a man or woman daring to jeer as they had so freely at the blonde woman.

Ember's labia glistened faintly under curls of black, her thighs parting enough to let Naeve glimpse her wet folds beneath. The captain stood with the leotard at her ankles beneath her stockings, smirking down at the veena as her hand came up and a finger beckoned. Naeve crawled toward her, knowing how this would end and what the final trial would be. Indeed, as soon as she knelt at Ember's feet with her face scant ilms from the captain's moist folds, a hand buried itself in her hair hard enough that she yelped. She was pressed forcefully to Ember's sex, the scent of it drowning her. “Taste,” Ember snarled and the word was a spur in Naeve's side, tongue immediately lapping at the dusky woman's petals.

She had never been with anyone, man or woman, so her technique was surely rough and guided by instinct. But Ember sighed blissfully and her slit seemed to grow more sodden the more Naeve ran her tongue through each and every fold, teasing it across the other woman's pearl when she found it. The hand in her hair clenched tighter, threatening to yank golden strands out of their root while the naked woman found her face pressed harder and harder to Ember's honeypot by the minute. Her nose brushed the folds and was soaked by the captain's juices, the bitter taste drowning Naeve's mouth.

“Yes, like that,” Ember hissed, a second hand pressing on the back of Naeve's head. Hips rutted on the veena's face, suffocating her in Ember's scent and taste while that hand closed tight around the base of an ear. Naeve wailed into the captain's sex at the rough grip on such a sensitive spot, but that only served to stoke Ember up further and the bucking of her hips grew fiercer. “Yes, perform, Naeve! If only you could see them all gladly stroking away to the sight of you, a _slut_ buried in her captain's _cunt_!” The dirty talk was the cherry on top of her humiliation but it also stoked the inferno in her core, the whole situation unspeakably and cruelly arousing. She yearned to touch herself and soothe her own ache, but she was sure Ember would order her hands bound or otherwise stop her.

“Gods...”

“What I'd give to tumble them both...”

The aroused whispers and mutterings came in groans and whines, their audience clearly fascinated at seeing Ember use her so. Naeve whimpered in pain and insatiable need, her thighs soaking, surely if this continued she would soon kneel in a puddle of her own arousal. Ember's hips bucked harder than ever and the rava cried out in ecstasy. “ _Yes_ , by the gods! Oh, this _is_ what you were made for!” She screamed in orgasmic bliss, thighs clenching about Naeve's face as the flood of her release drenched the veena. It dripped onto her breasts even as they heaved with every breath.

Once it was done Ember stepped back quickly, leaving Naeve to drop on all fours and pant in the dirt. The captain picked up her leotard and dusted it off, those amber eyes watching the blonde woman with the same predatory stare while Ember dressed. Naeve trembled, burning need mingling with icy shame to leave her quivering beneath their eyes.

“Fetch her a potion,” Ember declared. “Then, use her to your heart's content, brave sons and daughters of Dalmasca. Let the craven honor you with her body.” Another round of laughter and Naeve's eyes welled up, a whimper leaving her lips as the rava strolled away uncaring.

They descended, one pressing the ordered potion to her lips. A coward did not deserve to bear a hero's child, even were the resistance able to afford such a burden. She drank it deep between her whimpers and sobs, feeling their hands on her, feeling pleasure as fingers delved into her sex and groped her breasts yet at the same time frozen with disgrace. Some of the men had worked themselves too fiercely while she lapped at Ember, stroking themselves to climax over her shamelessly and letting their seed splatter on her bare body.

Naeve closed her eyes as a hard member thrust into her.

XIV

Naeve's eyes snapped open.

She panted atop sodden sheets, thighs drenched, chest heaving. Sweat beaded on her skin as the viera stared wildly. Wooden walls, an orchestrion, a table, a desk. The Carline Canopy. Her room.

Just a dream.

Still trembling, the lancer breathed deep, trying to calm herself despite the lingering heat in her loins.


	14. A Hero's Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Frottage

Rain lashed hard outside the windows as Cocolai Issalai bustled about the cramped kitchen, a pot of stew bubbling away atop the fire. Steam caressed over yellow-painted walls, the Pearl Lane apartment small but cozy despite currently housing one more person than it was meant for. Occasionally the brown-haired lalafell cast a glance through the window, the sight of the storm so unusual for Ul'dah combined with thoughts of the man he was worriedly looking for.

He remembered a day moons before when the heavens had opened so, hurrying home from work in the dark with eyes watchful for muggers and pickpockets in the alleys. Soaked near to the skin, stopping to the sound of sobs above the hammering of raindrops on the cobblestones to see another lalafell on his knees, just letting the rain crash on his shoulders and blend with his tears.

A motion past the window stirred Cocolai from memory as he stirred the stew. It had been a good day and there he was lost in old memories. A fine cut of aldgoat won from a merchant on Sapphire Avenue at a good price, a day free of work at the restaurant so he could spend his evening relaxing. The door opened to add to his list of good fortune.

“Pray forgive me,” Mimimoru called from the hallway. It had almost become his catchphrase, Cocolai smiled sadly.

“I feared you would drown, my friend,” the dark-eyed dunesfolk replied as Mimimoru came to the kitchen doorway, his tunic and trousers sagging under the weight of the rain still and droplets cascading onto the tiles.

“I took a chocobo back from Horizon,” Mimimoru murmured, green eyes drooping toward the floor like his robe.

“You should have teleported,” Cocolai chided gently, abandoning the stew to steer him toward the bedroom. “I have a robe you can borrow, you will catch cold like that!”

“I didn't have the gil,” the pugilist replied. Of course he didn't, the brunette man sighed in his head. Because all his gil went to Cocolai, to tend his equipment, or to soothe the countless needs of Ala Mhigo's lost sons and daughters. The latter being what had sent him on the path that led to the day Cocolai had found him sobbing in the rain.

Mimimoru stood awkwardly once they were in the bedroom, arms tight to his sides so as not to drip on the bed. Like every room they had it was a cramped one, space at a premium in money-hungry Ul'dah, and even though Cocolai's bed was made for a single lalafell it and his dresser left scarce room for the two to stand. Cocolai retrieved the robe from the dresser and passed it to Mimimoru, carefully navigating back out to give his friend room to change.

A glance back saw the tunic slip off, newly toned muscle laid bare in tanned skin. A new scar across the pugilist's back, whatever had carved that in him, Cocolai wondered as he admired the sight. A hiss from the kitchen made him scurry back to tend the stew, again thinking of the past as he stirred. A different day. A different Mimimoru again.

That one had been soft, smiling and rich, laughing at a table with friends who would be proven fair weather in time. The son of the Sasamoru family, not quite wealthy enough to count among the Syndicate but well on their way up. Cocolai had waited tables for the rich then as he did now, once or twice he had served the likes of Lord Lolorito and some of the other waiters let slip that the Sultana herself had been known to grace the restaurant with her presence on occasion. Everything in the restaurant was expensive, of course, fine oak tables of genuine Gridanian lumber, candles, the owner had even boasted that they used to have the finest Ala Mhigan salt before the Garleans put a stop to that.

Cocolai hated tending the whims of the rich, but the job certainly paid decently enough and he knew not what else he could do.

He dished out the stew into clay bowls, aldgoat and popoto, humble fare but nourishing. If Mimimoru needed anything, it was _nourishing_ , the brunette man reflected. He seemed to full spring from one side of Thanalan to the other both in the course of his training and to do what little he could to help the refugees of Ala Mhigo. As though beckoned by Cocolai's thoughts Mimimoru came into the kitchen, dressed in the plain yellow robe. Strands of black hair lay glued to his forehead, a little smile on his face making Cocolai's heart flutter.

How do you not realize, he wondered sometimes.

He passed a bowl and spoon to the pugilist and took his own, the pair moving into what he termed the lounge but which encompassed dining room too for lack of space. The table at which they sat was old and battered, nearing its end and creaking awkwardly if too much weight lay on one side, but Cocolai had too much affection for it to throw it out before it was beyond repair. A sofa against one wall had blankets and a cushion upon it, Mimimoru's makeshift bed even though Cocolai had offered to give up his own time and time again.

“My clothes are in the basket,” Mimimoru said softly, apologetically.

“You should have come back sooner,” Cocolai chided gently.

The pugilist shook his head. “There were rooms for rent in Horizon. I was seeing if they might take in-”

“Refugees,” the brunette sighed after a mouthful of stew burned down his throat. “Would they?”

Mimimoru's frown was all the answer he needed, but the pugilist spoke anyway. “They said they wouldn't serve 'vermin'.” His emerald eyes flashed with old pain just saying it and Cocolai set down his spoon to reach out. Fingers rested on Mimimoru's shoulder a moment though he longed to keep them there, to step around the table and pull his friend tight to his chest and hold him as he had that day in the storm.

To be _more_ than just his friend.

“I know,” Cocolai said, reluctantly letting go. His eyes rested on Mimimoru's, trying to be a balm for the other man's pain as best he could without touch.

Mimimoru looked down into the stew, spoon swirling it about. “Pray-”

“I _always_ forgive you,” he cut in, a flicker of frustration making his voice sharp and the green-eyed man flinch. An uneasy silence followed, too painful to endure so he spoke again. “I wish the world was kinder to you, Mimimoru.”

Emerald eyes looked up from his stew, surprised. “Even though I'm a fool who brings it all on himself?” They weren't his own words, Cocolai was sure, spoken so bitterly they had to be someone else's thoughts burned into his head. He took another spoonful of stew, chewing on a piece of popoto as he pieced together an answer. He ached to see Mimimoru so forlorn.

“You are not a fool,” he said finally, insistently. “You are a hero.”

A soft laugh passed the other lalafell's lips. “If only that were true.”

“Only a hero would choose to give his all for the sake of people not his own,” Cocolai answered. “Only a hero would stake everything on helping them, even though his own family cast him aside for doing so. Only a hero would run himself ragged and sacrifice every spare coin to keep on helping.” The green eyes brimmed, Mimimoru's spoon laying forgotten as he stared at Cocolai.

“Don't you resent me?” he ventured, as though he had thought it a thousand times yet never given it voice. “I occupy your space, make the most meager contribution-”

“I could never resent you!” he cried, the mere thought of it ice in his heart. Mimimoru's eyes widened at the outburst, back pressed hard to his chair. “I would never, Mimimoru.” He reached out, asking permission without words, and the other man let his fingers take his shoulder across the table again. They stared into each other and Cocolai was struck by how he had changed. The first time their eyes had met in the restaurant, Mimimoru's had been bright and light, unburdened and free. Then that day in the rain, nothing but naked pain had filled their depths, the raw wound of his mother's disowning him bleeding across the irises.

In the present, they swirled with a heady mix of emotions. Old pain blended with guilt, gratitude combined with uncertainty, compassion and grief.

“Why did you take me in?” Mimimoru whispered. “Why have you let me stay here?”

“Because you needed help,” Cocolai replied. _Because I love you_ , his heart added unbidden. _Because living with you these past moons has made me feel so._

Mimimoru sighed, his breath brushing on Cocolai's face as a tear trailed onto his cheek. “They _needed_ help,” he said, not only to Cocolai, but to bitter ghosts. “The woman with the baby. The men with no hope. All of them, stuck outside the gates when we could home and feed them with but the slightest _dent_ in our coffers.”

Longing, Cocolai ventured his fingers onto Mimimoru's cheek. The other lalafell gasped. “You need not excuse yourself,” he said softly. “You have been unjustly punished for trying to better their lot, Mimimoru, and I admire you for your devotion.”

“Even though I am a burden?” Another tear. “Even though I run myself ragged for the guild and for them, and leave you to pick up my pieces?” Cocolai wondered where the pain had come from. Mayhap the rain brought back memories for him too.

“Do you remember that day in the rain?” he asked. Of course Mimimoru did. It would be burned on both their memories, and indeed the black-haired man nodded in answer. “I saw you before then, at the restaurant.”

“You did?” He hadn't expected Mimimoru to remember _that_. He had been a different man then, soft and pampered and selfish, and the Mimimoru whose cheek his fingers touched grew rough, strong and selfless beyond compare.

Cocolai nodded. “You have grown so much, Mimimoru, and would that I could make that process painless. Would that I could take all your pain away.”

Understanding began to grow in the emerald eyes. “Cocolai-”

His chair scraped back and he let Mimimoru go a moment to step around the table. The stew lay forgotten, their eyes locked together. “You are no burden,” he whispered, their faces close. “Being by your side is a blessing, Mimimoru. I worry for you, care about you, but my heart swells with pride to see you growing stronger and fighting for those in need with all your might.”

“If not for you,” the pugilist breathed, “I don't know where I would be now. Dead in a gutter, most likely.” The mere thought of that made Cocolai clutch his shoulders and pull him close. “I was afraid that you hated me but were too kind to say it.”

“Mayhap I am _frustrated_ ,” Cocolai sighed. “But only because I care about you. Because I-” He had longed to say the words for so long, yet at the final juncture they stuck in his throat. For a terrible moment their faces were close enough that he could feel Mimimoru's breathing quicken, the longing in his breast overwhelming but his voice nowhere to be found.

To his surprise, it was Mimimoru who broke the silence.

The pugilist leaned closer, slowly, hesitantly, and pressed their lips together.

For something he had waited so long for, _dreamed_ would happen, Cocolai found himself paralyzed by the kiss. His eyes stayed open while Mimimoru's closed, the taste of the stew mixing with the other lalafell's own in his mouth until he at last came to his senses and kissed back fiercely. They clung to each other tight like suddenly neither could bear to lose the other, or even as though it had always been that way but they simply had not realized it. Cocolai had kissed other men, slept with other men even, but nothing compared to having his moons-strong love reciprocated so warmly.

“I love you,” he finally breathed with the kiss's end.

“And I you,” Mimimoru whispered. “I-I... I don't know what to do now.” A little smile spread over his lips and Cocolai returned it, taking the pugilist's hands in his own.

“Mayhap we could kiss again?” he asked, and at the other man's nod he took him in a deeper kiss than the last, letting their tongues come into play this time. He tasted Mimimoru deep, relishing every moment. He feared that any second he would wake, that it would all be a dream, but it felt so real that he could only conclude the Twelve were smiling down from on high, Menphina most of all.

Fingers trailed over clothes, the pugilist's robe so thin that Cocolai could feel his muscles straight through it. Mimimoru stroked at his hair while they embraced, long-held passions stirring in their veins to make their touches fiercer. The black-haired man brought his hand to Cocolai's hip and Cocolai broke the kiss to trail kisses to the lump in Mimimoru's throat, brushing his lips on it.

“Coco-” Mimimoru whimpered, the name cut off by a groan when Cocolai suckled.

“Call me that again,” he sighed between kisses. “Please.”

“Oh, Coco...” Kisses fell on his hair like rain made of love, the hand at the back of his head stroking with fingers somewhere between calloused and soft. Mimimoru's training had hardened him, undoubtedly, but not yet enough to erase every trace of where he had begun. Each kiss sent a pulse of levin through his blood, but his dreams ran so much further and though he would walk at Mimimoru's pace, he wanted to explore more.

“Would you like to go further?” he asked.

“How much?” A kiss to his forehead this time.

“Only as far as you want,” Cocolai smiled, pecking the pugilist on the lips.

Teeth played on plump lips as Mimimoru hesitated, considering. “May I see you? Um, that is, could you undress?” Cocolai chuckled a little at his awkward phrasing but smile and stepped back, the food long since forgotten as he undressed. His apron fell away first followed by his tunic, then his trousers were unlaced and he stepped out of them. With a smile, the brown-haired lalafell spread his arms wide, dressed in naught but his smalls with the beginnings of an erection pressing at them. Mimimoru looked him up and down shyly, a smile growing on his lips as he drank in the sight.

“How am I?” Cocolai teased, slowly turning to let every ilm lay bare.

“Wonderful,” Mimimoru whispered, his hands falling to the robe's belt. “I... I thought you would throw me out if you knew what I thought of you. So I just put everything into training, and the Ala Mhigans to try and distract myself...” He laughed. “Mayhap it was a good thing I failed so miserably.”

“Only mayhap?” the other lalafell purred as he came back to where he had started. He beckoned Mimimoru closer and the black-haired man could not have left his seat faster, all but falling into his arms as they toppled onto the sofa. Immediately they kissed again, hot and hungry now, ignited by the thought of further steps down the road they had begun to travel.

“Coco,” Mimimoru gasped between kisses as the brown-haired lalafell rubbed a hand at his hips, finding the pugilist's cock hardening and stroking his fingers against it.

“No smalls?” Cocolai queried with a little smirk. “How _bold_ , Mimimoru.”

“They were soaked too,” the pugilist whimpered in halfhearted protest, cheeks reddening with each stroke. “Oh, Coco...” He drew back and Cocolai worried he had gone too far, but it was only to undo the robe and shrug it to the floor. Yellow fabric pooled on the tiles, every inch of Mimimoru bare as his nameday as he leaned back in to kiss Cocolai again. Their hips brushed together and their cocks with it, only a single layer between them now.

“Thal's balls,” Cocolai gasped as the pugilist bucked his hips, the feeling of shaft on shaft making him groan and pull Mimimoru into a deeper kiss. He was close to full mast already, Mimimoru's nudity making him harden faster. Without asking this time he reached down to grasp the other man's cock and stroke, groans and gasps soon pouring into his mouth as in turn the pugilist reached into Cocolai's smalls. They worked at each other, the kiss soon impossible to hold in the face of their pleasured pants and cries.

“Oh, by the gods,” Mimimoru groaned as Cocolai's hand found his balls and caressed them. “Coco...” Cocolai took advantage of him leaning back with head tilted to make for his chest, lips closing around a nipple and suckling on it. The black-haired lalafell cried out, pumping his friend, nay, _lover's_ shaft tighter in response, both of them building toward their peak.

“I want you to spill your seed,” Cocolai confessed when he stopped his play at Mimimoru's nipple. “I want to see it.”

Mimimoru groaned. “Do you want to be inside me?” Yes, Cocolai's heart answered, but his head immediately knew it was too soon for that no matter how much he hoped.

“Soon,” he said with a stroke down the other man's chest. “But sadly tis not so simple and we must needs prepare before we can take that step.” He chuckled. “There is something we can do now, however.” He gently pushed Mimimoru back until the pugilist stood up and let him in turn stand, his hands bringing the black-haired man's own to his unbearably tight smalls. Eagerly Mimimoru tugged them all the way down, his face there to receive Cocolai's length gladly. With both cocks free Cocolai compared, finding his the longer and thicker, apparently much to Mimimoru's surprise.

“I was curious,” the pugilist laughed.

“Surely the phrase 'size matters not' is one you have heard,” Cocolai teased as he stroked a finger across the glistening head of the other man's cock. Mimimoru whimpered in need as Cocolai stepped into him, pressing bodies and lengths tight together while he planted kisses in his lover's neck once more. “Touch them, Mimimoru, please.” Slowly the pugilist reached down and took both shafts between his fingers, only just able to hold them both and slide his hand up and down. Hot needing breath washed on Cocolai's face as they both gasped, hips rocking together then apart on instinct as they rubbed on each other.

“Oh, Twelve!” Mimimoru gasped, hand flowing faster and faster with each stroke. Beads of pre soon ran on their cocks only to be spread by his strokes, their slick heads caressing each time his fingers encircled them. Breathing turned to panting, gasps to groans and cries as they both worked faster. Together they found their rhythm, kissing again and again as orgasm descended toward them.

It was like no sex Cocolai had ever had, fulfilling his dreams with that amazing hand on his cock, Mimimoru's against his to let their arousal mingle. Sweat flowed on their skin but he paid it no mind, lost in pleasuring his lover with fingers rubbing at a nipple and his hand gently teasing at one tight buttock. He dared to stroke across the other man's tight hole, imagining the day when they would go further as Mimimoru whimpered and groped at Cocolai's own arse in retaliation. The pugilist had taken to it all like a fish to water, Cocolai thought, offering a prayer to whichever of the Twelve would hear for that wonderful turn of fate.

Though, he supposed, mayhap this had all been fated from the day he saw Mimimoru in the restaurant.

Mimimoru's panting grew deeper, eyes lidded with pleasure and cheeks brilliant red. “Coco, I-”

“Go on,” Cocolai crooned.

“Sorry-”

“You are already forgiven,” Cocolai smiled, kissing him tenderly. “Let it out, Mimi.” Mimimoru's eyes opened a fraction, newfound joy in their depths as he cried out and reached his climax. Strands of hot seed poured forth from his cock to lay upon both their chests, warm on Cocolai's skin as he eagerly received it. They did not stop rubbing their shafts together, Mimimoru's hand clenched so tight that the brown-haired lalafell soon had neither the ability nor the will to resist any longer. Crying out his lover's name he let his own seed spill onto their bodies, their releases flowing together in a sticky testament to their first time.

Panting, gasping and trembling they collapsed onto the sofa together, cuddling naked without a care for the mess on their bodies. Their eyes shone bright in their afterglow and the simple realization of their love for one another, Mimimoru gently snuggling his head onto Cocolai's shoulder. The other lalafell gently scooped up a little seed from his lover's chest to lap at it, the pugilist watching with a weary smile.

“I love you,” Cocolai murmured with a kiss to Mimimoru's head.

“And I you," the younger man repeated. “Forgive me, I may have exerted myself too much today.” Cocolai eyed the abandoned stew with a wry smile. Had it really been not so long ago that winning the aldgoat cut to make it had been the highlight of his day?

“The restaurant does not need me this evening,” he crooned. “If you wish, we might clean ourselves then retire early.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Mimimoru sighed.

“And of course,” Mimimoru's eyes slipped open to look at Cocolai curiously, “I see no need for you to sleep on this uncomfortable sofa when there is a perfectly good bed awaiting us.”

“Me neither,” the pugilist laughed, snuggling tighter against him. “Thank you for everything, Coco.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Cocolai replied. “For being my hero, Mimi.” They held each other a while, just basking in the warmth of realized love and contentment.


	15. Admiration Untoward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Masturbation  
> Spoilers for Shadowbringers and 5.3 in particular

Long had Elidibus admired Azem.

It was only natural, of course. He had oft looked up to each member of the Convocation respectfully while striving toward their ranks, and that had not changed since he had proven worthy of elevation to Emissary. Though Lahabrea and Igeyorhm proved his staunchest supporters and closest confidants, every member had his utmost respect as though they were the elder siblings he had never truly had.

But Azem stood apart even from that, perhaps because he oft encountered his red-masked brothers and sisters, while the black-masked Wanderer's returns to Amaurot were always short and fleeting. On occasion she might slip into the city unannounced, rendezvous with Emet-Selch and, of all people, the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect, then be on her way again within a sun or less. Other times she returned at the Convocation's behest, to justify one of her more unorthodox actions or to further elaborate upon the reports she seemed to only file in bulk and after a long conversation with Emet-Selch. But as soon as her duty was done she would again embark into the wider world. So it was that he only rarely chanced to speak to her, but each of those conversations stuck in his memory like they had been burned there.

At first, he put it up to the rarity of conversation with Azem and the fascinating insights her perspective provided. After an incident with a volcano, he had seen fit to try her recommendation regarding that island's grapes, finding them indeed delicious, if perhaps not something he would contradict the Convocation for as she had. Other times she spoke of peoples he could scarcely imagine without her description, tribes of fish-men dwelling neath the waves, a clan of sentient golems, all manner of strange and wondrous things that lay beyond the bounds of Amaurot. To hear her speak of it left him tempted to accompany her on her next adventure, but that would never do.

He had his duty and he would not forsake it.

As time passed, Elidibus thought on her more and more. It was because he saw the likes of Nabriales and Fandaniel each and every day, he mused, bustling between members of the Convocation in his capacity, helping to temper rare disagreements, fostering cooperation between their different departments for the good of Amaurot and the very star. He might encounter Emet-Selch a dozen times a sun, while encounters with Azem were rarely more than once a moon, if that. Of course the words he shared with her and the glimpses he caught of her stood out by comparison, they were so much rarer. But the longer it went on the more it became apparent to him that that alone did not explain the frequency with which he found himself wondering where Azem walked, who she met, what threats she wrestled with.

It was a stormy day when the truth made itself apparent to him. Bustling through the corridors of the Capitol to speak with Lahabrea about an upcoming meeting of the Convocation, he passed into a hallway and stopped. There she stood, body wracked with laughter, the Chief of the Bureau laughing along with her merrily in a furtive corner. Elidibus stopped as though he had struck a wall in his haste, eyes fixed on Azem through his mask. He had not even heard that she was present in Amaurot, no summons from the Convocation had been issued, so it followed then that this was a social visit to liaise.

His eyes looked over Azem for the first time in some moons. Like all Amaurotines her black robes concealed much of her, her black mask shielding most of her face, but in her laughter the robes brushed on her enough to leave an impression of the body beneath. Strong and muscular, honed by many a year of grappling with threats to the star. He traced the swell of her chest a moment before catching himself, only to find his gaze then turn to her lips beneath the mask, the creases at the corners of her mouth telling of much time spent in song and joy. The Chief of the Bureau spoke something Elidibus did not hear and Azem retorted with something that sent both of them into peals of laughter. He picked her voice out from his, warm like the sunlight on his body after the rain.

The sound of it was like the finest music to his ears, only for a discordant note to shatter him from his wistful watching. Fingers snapped beside his ear and Elidibus flinched, a turn of his head finding Emet-Selch's hand held up in the aftermath of the snap.

“Are you well, Elidibus?” the Architect asked, tone flat as though the conversation exhausted him before it had even begun. “I did not think dumb staring a hobby of yours.”

Elidibus found himself scrambling for an excuse. “Forgive me. I was just surprised to see Azem back in Amaurot, I'd not heard.” Emet-Selch's gaze seemed to pierce right through his mask as though dissecting the Emissary, a thoroughly uncomfortable moment spent transfixed before the Architect turned to regard Azem and the other Amaurotine at her side, the latter noticing and prompting both to look at them. Azem's gaze touched Elidibus a moment, enough to make him shiver as golden eyes brushed over him and she smiled his way.

“Yes, she does like to drop by unannounced and make a mockery of all our schedules,” Emet-Selch drawled in his usual fashion. At least he seemed cured of the headaches which normally seemed to afflict him when Azem was the topic of discussion. “Though surely you have too much work to do to be gawping away in corridors.”

“Quite,” Elidibus agreed, a fraction too fast, for Emet-Selch glanced back at him. Grateful for the opportunity to escape, he sought out Lahabrea as swiftly as he could and worked through the agenda at haste, Azem's golden eyes haunting him every step of the way back to his office. He buried himself in work, scrawling at documents, composing missives in a futile effort to forget her, but her laughter played like a soundtrack in his mind right until Igeyorhm politely knocked on his door to let him know that night drew in and that he ought to rest.

Elidibus trailed through the streets of Amaurot after that, glancing about as though afraid that one of those who passed by and offered their greetings could see inside his head. Rain lashed down hard so mercifully those were few and far between. At this point, he knew that his thoughts were unusual at best, _inappropriate_ at worst. Enjoying Azem's company was one thing, to wonder how she looked beneath her mask edged on the untoward and he both anticipated and feared that soon enough he would arrive at even worse fare. No, no, no, he could not continue on that course, but for all his dedication in this matter he was powerless, although he knew full well how absurd it was. It was a juvenile attraction, nothing more, a hormonal response that made his cheeks heat and his thoughts stray back to Azem.

The Emissary scaled back to his lodging, a comfortable apartment that overlooked much of the city, its spires and skyscrapers unfolding like a carpet before him when he glanced from the windows. He found himself grateful to live alone as he prepared and ate a humble meal, he was much too distracted to try and engage with other people, to his shame. Azem's smile and laughter chased him like an unwelcome yet pleasant wraith, as though she were there to torment him with his own inability to control his urges.

Ordinarily he would have washed his plate, dried it and set it neatly back in its cupboard ready for the next day's meals, but Elidibus found himself discarding it in the sink instead and aimlessly making his way to his bedroom. It was humble, like the rest of the apartment, the only item of note the framed certificate of merit that had foreshadowed his elevation. But that was all he was, was it not? He had poured his all into serving Amaurot and the star, natural ability supplemented by hard work to prove himself worthy despite his youth, and no time had been left for anything else. Romance least of all.

He might have laughed at that thought were it not for his concerns. Certainly, he could not speak of his feelings to anyone, not even Lahabrea and Igeyorhm. Though Nabriales had once imparted in hushed tones the rumor that the pair were lovers, such was surely a baseless accusation unworthy of the Convocation, and to let these thoughts of Azem be known would be to risk censure. He would be seen as compromised, his judgment impaired by adolescent hormones and his decisions too much at risk of bias. The Emissary must needs be impartial, such had been pressed upon him, their analysis objective.

Something _had_ to be done, preposterous as it seemed.

Reluctantly Elidibus considered his options, weighing them as he had so many other decisions. Slowly he turned to one he found unpalatable, well aware of its implications, but burying himself in work had not proven successful. Mayhap he would have to indulge a little to temper his hormones. For the sake of his duty.

He drew the curtains, then his mask slipped off, laying bare a youthful face and eyes of silvery gray, framed in strands of white hair. His robes came undone and he slipped them to the floor, underclothes following to lay untidy on black tides while he lay himself atop his bed. The storm winds howled outside with rain lashing the windows, Elidibus breathing deep in anxiety and uncertainty a moment. Slowly he gathered his thoughts of Azem, starting with the concrete. The golden eyes that were like sunlight on his skin. The warm voice that sang when she laughed. The skin beneath tanned by the sun, as though her mask was but a formality for Amaurot to be discarded elsewhere.

His loins stirred in a way they had very rarely in the past, and which he had never indulged before. Elidibus glanced down at his member, seeing it slowly start to swell in answer to his thoughts. He wasn't utterly ignorant, he had of course received a full sexual education as all citizens did, but he could only confess his ignorance of anything beyond the scientific facts of copulation and reproduction. In a sense, he embarked upon an adventure of his own.

The young man traced a finger over his length, feeling it between flaccid and turgid, passing from one state to the other as it grew. Slowly he let his thoughts grow more daring, weaving a fantasy to pour his arousal into. Mayhap Azem would burst into his office unannounced, of course she would not knock, why ever would she? He would rise, shocked, confused, and she would shut his door with a furtive smirk.

He would come around the desk to challenge her and she would slip off her mask. A little gasp passed Elidibus's lips as he filled in the blanks he had never seen, her mask seemed a little crooked so perhaps her nose had broken at one time or another, the skin dusky from the sun's touch. White hair flowing in curls when the hood of her robe fell.

Slowly his penis rose up, foreskin peeling to bare raw red glans and he took hold of it. An experimental stroke sent sparks of pleasure down his nerves, the Emissary's lips parting. He continued his lustful narrative, Azem pulling off his own mask, crooning to him. Telling him how she had always dreamed of doing such wonderful things to him right there in the Capitol.

Her lips on his as her hands caressed hard over his robed body.

A whine escaped Elidibus as his stroking grew more forceful, his member surely at its peak. He peeled down his foreskin to bear the whole bulbous head, rubbing a thumb over it curiously to find the skin still dry. Even so it felt _good_ , a shiver passing through him while he imagined further. Azem would take his chair to wedge the door locked, a mischievous grin on her lips as she turned back to him and her hands came to her robes and untied them. They would lay on his carpet a moment later, the hero in naught but a black wrap about her chest and panties below, his bared eyes wide as saucers.

“Azem,” he breathed, wetting his head with spittle to stroke around his member's tip. A pulse of pleasure sent his head crashing back to the pillow, a groan torn from his throat.

He imagined his own robes pulled off by her hands, his protests feeble because he could not deny how he _wanted_ her when he stood erect with the slightest touch of her hands on his skin. Azem would push him up against his desk, taller than him so she could straddle him while her mouth burned kisses down his face and into his neck. That voice would sing his name in warm tones and even as a fantasy the sound was an aphrodisiac, sending his member throbbing at the mere thought. Elidibus gasped her title, he did not know who she had been before she was the Wanderer but even so the title was enough.

She would undo the wrap right in his face with that smirk on her lips, letting her bust fall free for him to worship. And _worship_ he would as though she were somehow divine, imagining his lips laying kisses onto the swell of her chest, tongue nervously circling her nipples. Her hands would stroke over his body, fingers teasing at him in new ways to leave him wanting her more by the minute as they approached his tightening smallclothes. His title passed her lips in his mind and he cried out her own in answer, tightening his grip as he furiously worked his shaft, every sensation new and lighting his mind with raw passion. His fantasy fueled his arousal only for his arousal to fuel the fantasy, thoughts he had never entertained before flowing freely in Elidibus's head while he masturbated.

He fancied her falling to her knees to tug down his smallclothes and leave him utterly bare to her golden eyes, as though he bathed naked in the sun's rays. Then those eyes would look up at him, sparkling with playful joy while her hand worked at his throbbing member, and that would be just the preparation. Lips on the glans, Elidibus would cry her name through clenched teeth while her mouth enveloped his length and took him deep.

Sweating and gasping as he stroked, Elidibus wondered if that meeting of the Convocation regarding Azem's _conduct_ with certain outsiders had not been more on the nose than he had thought at the time.

In both fantasy and reality he edged close to release, feeling his loins tighten and the pressure building to nigh-unbearable levels. He begged the fantasy of Azem for more and she obliged, leaving his member dripping in her spittle while she stripped off her panties to reveal her vulva to him. Again he filled in the blanks, surely an untamed bush surrounded it for embarrassed as he found himself to venture the thought he could not imagine Azem the type to carefully tend her pubic hair. But regardless she would pull him to the floor, Elidibus unwilling and powerless to resist her while she straddled his hips and took him into her sex.

“Azem!” he cried again, his shaft throbbing so fiercely that his climax could not be more than moments away. His arm began to ache from its exertions but he could not bring himself to stop so close to the end. Thin hips bucked into his own grip as instinct took control of his actions, guiding him through this unfamiliar but incredible territory.

He tried to imagine her walls tight around him, hot and slick with her need. Her hips would roll atop his and burying him in her, Azem's bust bouncing each time she fell and impaled herself all the way on his length. He fancied himself reaching out to hold her breasts with eager hands, and Azem pouring dirty words from her mouth in sweet tones to drive him mad with longing. “Fuck me, Elidibus,” his dream spoke, and he groaned at the glorious filth of it. So _unbecoming_ , so _inappropriate_ , so _untoward_ , but he had never wanted anything more.

Overcome, his eyes lidded and he panted Azem's name as his climax smashed down upon him. Throbs pulsed through his shaft to send ropes of hot thick seed lashing back onto his chest and the bedding, his stuffed loins emptying themselves at last in a fit of passion. He could not count how many times semen spurted from his tip, only knowing that when it ended he was drenched in it. Some had even reached to splash on his chin, oozing obscenely down his neck while he panted like a sprinter after a marathon.

Elidibus's whole body burned with afterglow, muscles trembling as he forced himself to release his softening penis. He watched it slowly shrink, drawing heavy breathes into a sore throat while he traced the splashes of seed across his body. As the last traces of his pleasure slowly drained away, he found himself left tired, ashamed, soiled and satisfied in even measure, laying in place and feeling his release stick on his body. If nothing else he felt sated, he supposed, more at ease than before.

Once he had gathered his strength, he left the bed to seek the shower. He would wash the stains of his act away, cleanse himself, change the soiled bedding and sleep. Then on the morrow, he would return to work with his head clear and his thoughts impartial, he planned.

It could not be otherwise, Elidibus thought as the hot water seared over his skin and washed the traces of admiration untoward down the drain. Even should it cost him everything, even should he deny himself everything, he would not forsake nor fail his duty.

The Convocation, Amaurot, and the star were depending on him.


	16. Clutching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scissoring  
> Spoilers for Shadowbringers and 5.2 in particular.

Gerlind _ached_.

For all that she seemed to spend bell after bell in her room at the Crystarium, it never seemed enough rest. One moment she was delving into the depths of Anamnesis Anyder, another she fought her own distorted recollections of old foes in the Empty, and the next she and the other Warriors of Light had fought for their lives and all Eorzea against the terror that was the Ruby Weapon. She had not expected that battle to be _easy_ , but the specter of Nael van Darnus was hardly welcome after she had already _twice_ killed the mad legatus.

She had thought at least seeing her fellows would bring some relief, but every moment she had lingered was another moment than the Scions might worsen irreversibly or that Elidibus might at last move the pieces of his plan into a critical position. So all she had had once the Ruby Weapon was destroyed was the briefest of catch-ups, seeing how they had changed while she fought for Norvrandt, and then it was back to the First, back to paranoia about an Ascian plan they had yet to fully uncover, back to the man who wore Raha's face but had cold crystal where flesh and blood ought to be.

Back to being a machine pointed at the enemy.

The teleport dragged her down into the aetherial sea and an instant later she emerged. The Crystarium opened before her, the Crystal Tower shining like a beacon in the noon sun. Passing guards waved and cheered their Warrior of Darkness, she had taken to wearing the black armor and wielding Shadowbringer again after Hades's fall after all. It just seemed _fitting_ even back on the Source, even if she had caught the worried looks from Flame, Naeve and Kuri at seeing her a dark knight once again. She wandered about uncertainly, hearing people applauding and cheering her and hoping it would soothe her weariness. It did not, of course.

If she could subsist on applause and prayer, she thought, what would she be but a primal herself? The delicious irony of that notion made her grin a little despite herself as she climbed up onto the watchtower to gaze across the gulf between the Crystarium and Lakeland. Her blade hung heavy on her back, but even when she stood staring across with Shadowbringer's point on the boards and its hilt beneath crossed hands her broad shoulders still felt overwhelmed.

Elidibus out there somewhere with Ardbert's face, scheming away and making Warriors of Light pawns in his game. Hydaelyn and Zodiark, two sides of the same coin perhaps, the former plucking comets from the sky to forge new pieces, the latter playing the same pawns in new vessels over and over. The Exarch choosing her as his key piece in a cold game, _lying_ to her about the Lightwardens and about himself, having Urianger _lie_ through his teeth to her too. Why? Because he felt she would try to stop him? That she wouldn't want to lose Raha _again_?

Then he wasn't Raha at all to dangle that fate over her without discussion, she seethed, hands pressing on Shadowbringer's hilt until her palm nearly bruised. Or mayhap he was Raha after a century spent longing for a legend until he forgot the woman who inspired it, G'raha Tia's experience long buried under a hundredscore accounts of her that had not a shred of Gerlind Sterne's experiences and expectations in them. Then further twisted by a century of fighting to claw what little he could back from the brink in preparation for his prize piece to arrive and let the game play out in earnest.

History is learned, not lived, Almet had said so recently, and when the viis had spoken Gerlind had thought of the Exarch.

That thought brushed an impulse and Gerlind willed herself into the aether once again, unsure if the Exarch watched her through his mirror but wanting to be away a while either way. Purple leaves and the tower's glow gave way to dusky boughs and the scent of the forest when she emerged in Fanow, viis looking up startled at her appearance by the aetheryte only to smile and greet her once they recognized her. There were surprisingly few of them in the village and both Almet and Uimet were not in attendance, only Cymet left to come over.

“Back again so soon?” the red-haired viis smiled. “Did you wish to look at the ruins once more?” Gerlind shook her head and took note of Shadowbringer still drawn, sheathing the greatsword with an apologetic look.

“No, no, I will leave that to Y'shtola once our enemy is defeated,” the highlander replied.

“Then why are you here?” Cymet asked. “My sisters are out on the hunt about the Qitana Ravel if you wanted to speak with them.” She didn't know _what_ she really wanted, besides a reprieve from it all. To lose herself a while, no Weapons, no Exarch, no Elidibus for as many moments as she could clutch tight to her breast. She could not bring herself to disappear entirely or she would gladly have stayed on the Source with the others much longer, sought comfort in their arms and voices.

There was still too much at stake for her to forsake her duty.

“I...” Cymet hung on her words with a curious look in her eyes, the viis shifting almost uncomfortably under Gerlind's blue eyes. “Is there anything you would like help with?” Look at her, she thought with the side of her mind from which Fray had sprung, all but _begging_ to be given something to fetch. But it was by _her_ will, no Exarch telling her all would be well by her deeds while the Light burned her inside out, no nation's fate resting upon her blade's edge. How long had it been since she felt so free? Not since before Ifrit, mayhap.

Cymet pondered away a moment, surprise staining her irises. “I was about to patrol the borders of Yx'Maja, but I would not ask-”

Gerlind shook her head, mayhap a little too quickly. “No, I would be glad to help you, Cymet.”

Surprise blossomed over the redhead's eyes. “You are certain?” Gerlind nodded and a smile found her lips.”Pray wait a moment.” Gerlind did so, leaning on the railing to gaze into the bowels of the Greatwood. A dizzying drop lay below and she marveled at how the viis had stretched their village over great trunks and branches, surprisingly stable despite the abyss over which it protruded. She wished she could bring Naeve to Fanow and see how it compared to the veena's old home in Dalmasca, and how familiar the dragoon found the viis. To the Warrior of Darkness Cymet's people and Naeve's seemed much alike, but more than likely they would find one another strangers in many ways, the product of different worlds.

Cymet returned anon and they set out, the viis wielding her staff while Gerlind stayed ready to draw Shadowbringer at a moment's notice. The sentinels at Fanow's edge saw them off with smiles at the Warrior of Darkness and farewells, and soon they were alone amid the trees.

“Have there been many sin eaters since the Lightwarden was slain?” Gerlind asked, remembering the blade of Lakeland steel cleaving Eros's heads from their necks before its light burned her from within.

Cymet shook her head as they ducked through a thicket of vines. “A few, disorganized and easily slain. Without the Lightwarden they scattered to the winds.”

The dark knight nodded. “Then what do you patrol for?”

“Those who would defile the ruins of Ronka,” the red-haired viis replied. “On occasion the wildlife threatens Fanow itself or the ruins, so we keep a close watch.” Once again Gerlind found herself utterly thrown by the viis. She knew that they lived longer than humans, as did their counterparts on the Source, but Cymet at one moment spoke so maturely and yet so recently she had answered Uimet's taunting about her staff with the most childish of responses.

That memory brought a thought to her head that she turned over as they walked. A few tarichuk stalked by, the great birds warily eyeing the pair as they stalked out of sight, and a caracal at one point prowled over the path ahead. The forest was thick around them, the rustling of leaves and the creaking of boughs in all directions. Finally she decided to throw caution to the wind and give voice to her thought.

“What was Uimet talking about before?” the dark knight finally asked as though about the weather, looking for Cymet's reaction with curious eyes.

The viis's cheeks abruptly went red like her hair. “When do you mean?” she asked, knowing full well.

“When she said you were 'clutching your staff at night, wishing it were-'?” Gerlind quoted with a little smile, watching the blush on Cymet's cheeks grow darker.

“It was nothing!” the viis protested, glaring off into the forest. “And she said she would not tell, only to blurt it out right in front of-!” A twig snapped beneath her feet and she jumped at the sound before catching herself, a bashful look cast Gerlind's way.

“In front of Y'shtola? Or me?” A few paces passed in silence and Gerlind was about to apologize when Cymet answered.

“In front of you.” Leaves rustled up ahead and Gerlind drew Shadowbringer, but whatever had disturbed the bushes it evidently made its retreat without challenging the monstrous blade in her hands. Cymet looked at her, eyes running over the sword's edge. “That blade is immense yet you wield it as though it is a twig.”

“I have had much practice at carrying heavy burdens,” Gerlind sighed as she sheathed the greatsword. Countless deaths. Failure. Bittersweet victory.

Cymet slowly looked up at her eyes. “You spoke of an enemy before.” They continued, passing through more thickets with the trees thinning in the distance. They headed toward the clearing as Gerlind pieced her answer together.

“An enemy whose schemes we do not know,” the highlander murmured. “One I would believe a friend, more even, but who hurts me as a stranger would. My friends in mortal peril. Much and more besides.” Another silence passed until they emerged from the treeline into a clearing, a few wooden huts arranged around a fire pit.

“Bowrest,” Cymet said. “We may rest here a while, if you wish?” Gerlind nodded and they sat beside the fire pit, finding no other viis about. They were alone for a time, the sky slowly darkening above them. “Did you come here to seek a reprieve?”

Gerlind nodded. “I wanted but a moment. Thank you for providing me such, Cymet.”

The red-haired viis smiled. “After all you and yours have done for Norvrandt, I would do even the smallest things I can to repay your deeds.”

“You could sate my curiosity next,” the dark knight teased. “Whatever were you thinking of when you clutched your staff at night?”

Cymet's blush returned in force. “I thought of you.” She drew her arms about herself, hugging tight. “I wished it were you.”

Though she had expected the answer, Gerlind was still struck by the intensity with which Cymet looked at her. She had thought she had seen longing there before, but too much had been on her mind and the viis's sisters had been right there both times as well. “As what?” she asked. “Did you merely want an embrace, or...?”

Cymet evidently caught the cut of her remark because her blush deepened further, impossible as that seemed. She looked like a doe cornered by a behemoth, eyes wide all of a sudden as she avoided Gerlind's gaze. “More,” the viis finally admitted. “Our mothers taught us what we would need to know when the menfolk came to Fanow.” Gerlind nodded, Naeve had mentioned something of viera society functioning along the same lines once. “After you came to slay the Lightwarden, I felt admiration for you, yes, but also...”

“Cymet...” Gerlind wanted it, but concern still made her offer the viis an out should she not be ready. “Are you certain?” With hindsight mayhap it had been the wrong thing to say, or the right depending on perspective, for the viis was suddenly in Gerlind's face and their lips brushed. Eagerly she reciprocated, gentle with Cymet and mindful of her hard armor as she hugged the other woman close.

Hands played on steel and cloth, Cymet trying to realize her nighttime thoughts even with Gerlind's plate in her way. With a little chuckle the Warrior of Darkness kissed over her flushed cheek, gently pushing the viis away so that she could work the clasps of her armor. Pieces of bale plate soon lay within one of the huts as Gerlind pulled Cymet after her, stroking at the redhead's ears between each piece of armor she removed. Cymet's eyes lidded at the gentle touch, brushing her fingers over Gerlind in return while the dark knight stripped to her tunic and leggings.

Her armor laid aside, she turned to embrace Cymet in earnest atop the furs within. “Hold me tight,” she crooned into the viis's ear. “I would see your dreams made true.” Cymet sighed as kisses pressed into her hair and onto an ear, Gerlind's hands tugging at the other woman's gloves until they were unlaced and laid on the floor. More clothes followed, Gerlind's tunic, Cymet's chestwrap, both women soon topless beneath the hut.

Cymet looked Gerlind up and down with cheeks bright, fingers running over scars and cords of muscle alike in the same gentle reverence. Hesitantly her fingers took a breast and toyed with it, doubtless trying what had worked for the viis in her own experiments and though her technique was inexperienced Gerlind had needed to be touched so much that she relished every squeeze and caress. She gasped and sighed against Cymet's hair, breathing in the redhead's scent while she brought a hand to cup one of the viis's own tits. Dusky fingers pressed on a pale nipple, rolling over it while Cymet squealed in delight and surprise.

“Gerlind,” the viis whispered and the Warrior of Darkness kissed her.

“Would you like me to teach you more?” she asked. Cymet's eager nods and breathy moan at fingers squeezing her breast were all the answer she needed, descending to lavish the other woman's bust with kisses and nips. Gerlind had slept with far more men than women in her time, but she was no slouch and soon Cymet wailed and moaned at her touch, one of the viis's hands descending beneath the hem of her skirt. “What are you hiding from me?” Gerlind crooned, a bashful look crossing Cymet's burning cheeks as the dark knight brought her own hands down to unwrap the skirt.

At first Cymet clutched at her garment nervously and Gerlind began to let go, then the viis slowly accepted and her own hand pulled it loose from her body. Beneath she wore only simple shorts in the same woody brown, her hand beneath making them bulge as she fingered herself and whimpered. Smiling Gerlind kissed down over Cymet's taut stomach until she reached the redhead's smalls, gently tugging at those in turn until Cymet lay utterly bare before her. Bright red curls lay damp with her arousal, the scent of her sex heady when Gerlind kissed at the woman's moist thighs.

“Oh, Warrior of Darkness...” Cymet gasped, hands clutching at Gerlind's hair while licks scraped slowly on her labia. She tasted sweet, Gerlind found, her nectar pouring freely with her dreams coming true.

“What did you imagine us doing when you clutched your staff?” she whispered, bringing her lips to Cymet's to let the viis taste her own folds. Cymet accepted, tongue washing her lips afterward until they were clean.

“We were... rubbing together,” Cymet whimpered as fingers brushed over her petals, head falling back to let Gerlind suckle in the hollow of her neck. “By Ronka...”

“I wouldn't let the emperor hear you saying that,” Gerlind teased as she nipped at the line of Cymet's jaw then stroked her tongue over it. Cymet squealed again, her girlish cries and the feeling of her drowning out all Gerlind's concerns. All that mattered was lavishing the woman before her with pleasure until they both lay spent. Damn the Exarch. Damn Elidibus. Damn Garlemald.

Damn it all, she thought, just let me have this for now.

Two fingers stroked in and out of Cymet's virgin heat, the viis moaning Gerlind's name into her cheek as she clung tightly to the highlander. Gerlind's own sex burned with want and she tried desperately to strip off her breeches one-handed until Cymet caught her struggles and lent her fingers to the task. Soon the highlander and the viis were both utterly naked to one another, Gerlind's own need plain to see from how her slit glistened.

“Rubbing together, you said?” Gerlind crooned, kissing at Cymet's ear and adding a thumb on the viis's clit to the fingers in her sodden flower.

“Y-yes,” Cymet whimpered, kissing at Gerlind's breast while she shyly teased along the dark knight's own folds with a single finger.

“Like this?” She pulled her fingers away and the viis whined at the loss of her, Gerlind adjusting them both gently atop the furs. They sat face to face a moment then Cymet submitted to lay on her back, Gerlind spreading the pale woman's legs wide then hooking one of her own over to let their hips touch. Labia brushed on labia and they both cried out as their most intimate parts touched, Gerlind propping herself up with a hand on the floor by Cymet's shoulder. Desperate to please, she rolled her hips against the viis, brushing their folds together again and again while the redhead writhed and squealed loud in utmost pleasure.

“Yes, please!” Gerlind accepted the invitation gladly, humping against Cymet while her free hand held the viis's hips. In turn the dark knight found Cymet reaching up to hang on, pale hands against the knight's dusky skin as they fell into the throes of passion. She did not expect Cymet to do much, utterly new as the viis was, but then playing the part of teacher was welcome indeed as she gently crooned advice and gave compliments that left the red-haired viis blushing with delight rather than embarrassment. Everything else was forgotten, just the hut and Cymet grinding against her left in Gerlind's world for a beautiful eternity. The last time she'd had anyone was the Exarch right after Hades's defeat and that had proven a bitter mistake, even the thought of it threatening to burst the blissful bubble so she forced it well out of mind and doubled down on pressing her sex to Cymet's.

“Are you close, dear?” she breathed over Cymet's heavy pants, the viis wailing in pleasure as she nodded furiously. “Good, good girl.” A giddy smile turned the viis's lips as her fingers desperately rubbed on her clit, one of Gerlind's instructions she had taken to like a duck to water. Gerlind's fingers stroked on the other woman's hips as she watched Cymet's face contort with the heights of pleasure and her breasts rock with every buck of their hips, both of them burning with desire and exertion. “That's it, Cymet, cum for me.” The instruction came in pants, her end so close she could almost reach out and touch it.

“Yesssssssss-” Cymet wailed, her own orgasm striking too fast for warning. Gerlind felt the viis's slick splash on her sex, her bush, her thighs, Cymet's fingers digging in hard as she trembled and screamed Gerlind's name. Through it all the dark knight clung to her hip, thumb stroking while she continued to roll her hips into Cymet's bucking body. She found her climax as Cymet collapsed shaking on the furs, mind going white as she cried out to the roof just above. More juices splashed on them both, leaving their legs and hips utterly soaked as waves of raw pleasure burned through her nerves. All the weight was gone for a single transcendent moment, she wasn't the Warrior of Light or the Warrior of Darkness, she was just Gerlind with no expectations nor duty.

All too soon that ended and she crashed back into herself, the aftermath of their climaxes glistening on their bodies while they both panted hard for breath. She returned Cymet's grin of joy and stared into the viis's bright eyes, grateful for the moments she had stolen, grateful that unknowingly Elidibus and the Exarch and all else had left her be long enough for that. Gently Gerlind ran her fingers over Cymet's skin, softly crooning to the redhead and wishing she did not have to don her armor, go back to the Crystarium and once more shoulder the weight of two whole worlds.

But Cymet knew. “You must go, mustn't you?” the viis sighed, laying with their hips still touching. “Your enemy still awaits.”

Reluctantly she nodded. “And much else besides. But you have been of much comfort, Cymet, and rest assured that your sisters will never know of this. I would not leave you to Uimet's tender mercies.”

She smiled. “This piece of history shall be ours alone. Though I hope we make more such moments, I shall be content to have had the one with you.” She leaned up to stroke her fingers on the dark knight's face.

“We made quite the mess,” Gerlind sighed, a chuckle rocking her shoulders as she looked down.

“There is a stream not too far,” Cymet replied. “We may wash ourselves there then finish the patrol.” Slowly, hesitantly they rose to their knees, holding each other close as they knelt. Gently they kissed one last time, eyelashes brushing skin as they let their faces separate then their bodies, making to gather their clothes and head for the stream. They would blame the lost time on something, a rabid animal mayhap, and see that all was well along the way before Gerlind departed back to the Crystarium.

The weight on her shoulders was still enormous, Elidibus's threat looming, the Scions still in peril, and the Exarch still a stranger with a familiar face entirely too eager to let her lose Raha once again. But come what may, she would weather it as she had so much before.

By stealing precious moments in tender arms, clutching them to her breast, and letting them be fires in her heart against death's cold embrace.


	17. Eternal Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Formal Wear  
> Set post-canon so spoilers for Shadowbringers and particularly 5.3.

As the shade of the Costa del Sol cabin came into focus around them lit with a pale blue glow, Naeve knew peace for the first time in a long while.

She had been excited, of course she had. Finally working up the courage to ask Solemn Flame to marry her had been an ordeal in itself, but with Gerlind and the Scions returned along with G'raha Tia's awakening, she felt she finally had to take the behemoth by the horns. Looking at him resplendent in his white suit, she remembered how he had wept in joy when she knelt before him to make the offer.

But the initial joy of his acceptance had quickly been buried, for the marriage of two Warriors of Light sent ripples through all four corners of the realm and beyond. Almost immediately it seemed everyone knew and they were drowned in congratulations, proposals and gifts. A silver necklace courtesy of the Sultana, fine Lominsan wine from the Admiral, a bouquet of beautiful flowers and sincere wishes from the Elder Seedseer, even Ser Aymeric's congratulations and offer of an Ishgardian retreat, Lyse and Raubahn's well wishes, and several bottles of sake from Lord Hien. All the lives they had touched had come to bless them, and had they not made it clear they wished the ceremony small and intimate then Naeve was certain each and every one of them would have come in person to mark the occasion. She could not say she was not honored by that sentiment, but it was intimidating all the same.

As it was, she had heard that Ser Aymeric had debated sending several Knights Dragoon as an honor guard for the proceedings “just in case” until it had been pointed out to him by Estinien that the bride was mayhap the greatest living dragoon and the groom the greatest black mage in Eorzea. Let alone the presence of their fellow Warriors of Light, she had commented when Estinien relayed the story along with his own curt congratulations. Despite those fears which she was sure the other alliance leaders shared, all had gone well, not an assassin to be found. The Scions had all been in attendance, Tataru's aid had proven invaluable when it became apparent that to a man they all were much better at the slaying of man and beast than the planning of a ceremony of eternal bonding.

Beneath the roof of the Sanctum of the Twelve they had sworn their vows, kissed and separated as husband and wife while all applauded. G'raha Tia at Gerlind's side in the front row with all their comrades. Kuri with Zansei, the auri couple honoring the reception with music and dancing respectively. Maurelin and Tahla offering smiles and entertainment, even if Naeve strongly suspected the former had come in glamoured armor rather than a real suit. Mimimoru and Cocolai had held hands and applauded loudest of all. Asmir had been the most respectful she had ever seen him, he had not flirted with her since she and Flame had become known of course, but for him to refrain from flirting _at all_ was something she never thought to witness.

The Scions had sat arrayed further back, she and Flame were not as close to them as Gerlind was but she still valued them all, Tataru especially. Flame's parents and siblings grudgingly made their appearance to honor the 'runt' who had become greater than any of them, all bigger and stronger than him in body but to her they paled before him in every respect. She had only friends, her father unknown and her mother left back in Dalmasca, but how could she have been lonely when so many came to see her wed? Even Estinien had come in person to wish his fellow Azure Dragoon well albeit weeks prior.

Naeve brushed stray confetti from her hair, as she had done the past bell while they exchanged words with each and every guest in preparation for their honeymoon. The preparations for _that_ she credited Tataru with as well, it had certainly been admirable of her to see that Master Gegeruju was persuaded into allowing them the exclusive use of the cabin, as well as having their luggage smuggled in and a miniature aetheryte temporarily installed without a single man or woman involved uttering a word to the realm at large. Mayhap there was some truth to Estinien's wry note that the lalafell was more spymaster than secretary.

“At last,” she sighed, emerging from thought to regard her husband. Just _thinking_ it sent a thrill through her as Naeve stared into loving red eyes, tracing over his bald scalp down his earthen red skin. He looked back at her, _into_ her in turn, smiling like the happiest man on the entire star as his hands found hers.

“Peace and quiet,” the roegadyn chuckled. That it was, Costa del Sol's holidaymakers on the other side of a thick outcropping, only the sounds of waves and the wind nearby. He slowly moved to take her waist and Naeve glanced down at herself. Even not normally caring much for clothes besides how well they would turn a blade, she had gasped when she first saw the dress. Fine white, the lace sewn through with intricate patterns, and the train sweeping elegantly behind her. It fit her perfectly, another detail Tataru had overseen to perfection just like Flame's suit and the proceedings.

One of Flame's hands left her side to brush through her blonde hair, another petal of confetti falling to the boards while she smiled. A garland of white flowers sat around her ears, a gift of royalty by Gerlind's account. Naeve had thought more of rebellion and battle than of marriage in her younger days, but even in her wildest dreams she never would have imagined that on her wedding day she would be handed a crown gifted by the king of the fairies from another world. “Once given to brides in old Voeburt to bless the marriage with happiness, prosperity and fertility,” the Warrior of Light had recounted while placing the garland atop Naeve's brow.

“Tataru certainly came through,” Flame grinned with a glance about the cabin. Indeed, their bags were all in place, the glow of the miniature aetheryte serving as a passable lamp.

“We have much and more to thank her for,” Naeve agreed, a giddy grin on her own lips. “But I would forget all of that a while, love.” She turned her smile playful and pecked him on the lips, receiving a kiss in return. They both sighed and held each other close in the aftermath, just relaxing in a warm embrace. “The gods have blessed me with the most handsome husband in all the land,” the viera sighed, fingers stroking over his suit as he rumbled with a chuckle.

“You are too kind, Naeve,” he murmured, a kiss pressing to the crown of her head between the ears. “Though when I saw you enter, I thought surely Halone herself would not compare to my wife in courage and beauty.” A blush spread over Naeve's cheeks at that and she leaned up to kiss him again. His hands stroked round to her back, fingers softly caressing her. “Gerlind nearly had me convinced you were going to merely glamour the dress over your armor, you know.”

The veena laughed warm and free. “I would never have,” she replied, her grin turning mischievous. “I could not disappoint my husband on our wedding night by forcing him to work through all my plate.”

“Oh, is that so?” the roegadyn purred. He brushed fingers through her hair to her crown. “My wife... my _queen_.” Her heart sang in answer as she kissed him hard and needy, wanting him, craving him. She explored him with fingers and lips, mapping his face with her kisses while her fingers charted the muscles of his back. Flame sighed contentedly against her and his own kisses ran over her forehead from left to right, beard scraping on her skin but even that she loved.

“Flame,” she breathed into him, letting the scent of him fill her. Fine oils added their sweetness but beneath there was the spice of him, like the flames with which he burned their enemies to ash.

“Naeve,” he breathed back, such love in the rumble that she swore her heart skipped a beat to hear it. Strong hands took her hips and the viera accepted gladly, wrapping her arms tight around him to pull their bodies together.

“Make love with me, my love,” she breathed, swaying her hips in his grip and taking him in a fierce kiss. Lips slipped open to let tongues dance and play, Flame's grip tightening at her waist while she stroked up and down his back. How he burned for her and she for him, the warm joy of their wedding day rising into an inferno of love and desire that they longed to sate in passion.

The roegadyn crouched lower to kiss down Naeve's chin to her neck, breathing hard into the hollow of her throat as his trail descended to her breast. He found the red scar of a mad beast's katana and worshiped her down its length from collarbone to bust, the feel of him lingering along the line while he met the edge of her dress. His lips followed it over the valley of her cleavage, kisses warm on her skin even after he moved on and her own lips pouring love on his head eagerly.

Longing for more the veena tugged him to the bed, falling back onto soft sheets while he chased her to continue his worship. Best as she could with her dress in the way she let their hips meet, feeling his hardness rising while he pressed kisses to her nipples through the cloth. Flame retreated to kneel on the floor after a moment, hands gently pulling up her garment to let him run kisses up her tights while the viera giggled in glee.

“Your dress is so fine it seems a sin to undress you,” the hellsguard sighed, a wry smile turning up his lips.

Naeve let him have a sultry chuckle and a glance of lidded eyes, seeing his own sparkle at the sight. “You may struggle to consummate our marriage without doing so, love,” she teased.

“Is that a challenge?” the roegadyn rumbled, surging forward. He took the dress's skirts up to her hips and pressed his own into her, Naeve gasping as his hard member pressed against her folds.

“Oh, Flame-” A hard fierce kiss silenced her and she kissed back passionately, her legs wrapping up around him to keep his cock rubbing on her sex through lacy panties and his trousers. Their tongues brushed once more while they shared moans and ground together, every touch a bolt of levin in her veins, every needing scrape of lips and teeth stoking her heat.

“My love,” Flame gasped in a second's lull before her lips devoured his once more. Naeve clung to him with arms and legs, craving more of him by the moment. Another lull had her panting his name and he hers, his hips rutting into her when he seized her in another round of desperate kissing that left them breathless when it came to an end.

Dragon-like she clawed herself around, the dress falling back over her legs while she went to him on all fours, letting her hands flow up his legs and scrape fingers over the finery of his suit. Another kiss left their lips burning in its aftermath, but Naeve sought another prize with her hands undoing his trousers. Flame stepped onto the floor to let her work, her eager hands joining his in exposing his hard girth before her hungry eyes.

“Do you remember the first time I tried?” Naeve smiled as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. Flame groaned as he nodded.

“I feared I might leave you unconscious,” he confessed, both of them laughing before she licked at his tip. “Oh, by Rhalgr, Naeve...”

“Let us see what I have learned,” she jested, taking him into her mouth. A low groan left his lips while his hands found her hair, gently holding it out of the way while Naeve sucked on his length. Even far more practiced than she had been the night before Operation Archon she still found working him with her mouth difficult, in spite of their feelings their bodies were simply on different scales and surmounting that took work. But she was eager to please and worship him as he did her, taking his whole length into her mouth while she gazed up with sultry eyes.

Rough fingers stroked in her hair and up her ear, the viera whining at how he petted while she continued to slide his cock in and out of her mouth. She took a moment to gasp a breath and trailed her fingers down the slick shaft to find his balls, lips enveloping him again as her hand squeezed gently.

“My love,” he gasped, hips rutting into her and she rolled with them. Where once she had gagged now she continued to lavish him, her blood afire with passion and her hips swaying. Naeve took his whole length once again, holding it to the back of her throat as long as she dared before releasing him to gasp for breath. Before she could suck him more Flame was on his knees and kissing her, those wonderful hands caressing her locks.

“Love,” she breathed as they parted, only an ilm between their faces. His face seemed redder than usual, his eyes wide and bright before they closed to press their lips hard together once more. Naeve moaned into the deep kiss as one hand crept under her to find a breast, his finger teasing at a pebbled nipple through dress and bra. “Love, please,” she panted as she hesitantly forced herself apart from him, tumbling to roll on her back. “I _need_ you, Flame-”

“Then you have me, love,” the roegadyn breathed, crawling to her. Once more he lifted her skirts up until her legs and panties were bare to him, kisses blazing up her shins then over toned thighs. Naeve shivered with every loving touch, whimpering at a finger tracing the length of her wet slit. But he would never tease her, not for long, and so soon the panties slipped down her legs in his hand to be dropped to the floor. The viera spread her legs wide, inviting him with open folds and needing eyes to do whatever he wanted with her.

Flame stopped between her thighs, breath brushing over her sodden labia as she whined. His red eyes met her blue and he smiled. “Naeve, my love, my _wife_.” Fingers stroked on her thighs gently, lovingly, his voice so deep with sincere passion that she found tears in the corners of her eyes. “I would follow you to the very bowels of the seven hells.”

“And I you to the heights of the heavens, my husband,” Naeve whispered in return, reaching out over herself to cup his cheek. “Flame, please...” He smiled and pressed his lips to her, the viera falling back with her head in the pillow. Kisses brushed on swollen lips before his fingers came in to spread her, his tongue sampling her nectar as though he had not tasted a hundred times and declared her divine each and every one. Licks found each spot in her petals that made her ache and throb, breaths catching in her throat each time he tended to one. A finger pressed in deep and Naeve cried out, one hand on his head and the other clutching the bedding hard.

What did it matter if Zenos yae Galvus walked the land as Estinien said? Perish the beast and the empire, Naeve thought breathless, for I fear nothing so long as I have you. Flame slipped another finger into her sex and she wailed his name in delight, back arching when the digits curled and scraped across her walls. He knew each and every way to pleasure her and put that knowledge to full use, tongue on her clit as his fingers went about their careful tending of her flower. The thought that much and more of it awaited left her giddy, crying out to the gods in the hopes that they would sit and take notice of how he worshiped her so fervently.

“Oh, my love,” she gasped in a moment of reprieve, Flame looking up into her eyes with a smile of purest joy. After so much darkness and uncertainty at last they had light and they had each other, more truly than ever before with their bond sworn before Eorzea's eyes. He descended back to praise her with lips and tongue between her legs, his touch making Naeve sing in wails and cries. Even if they could have been heard over the waves she would not have cared, lost in the depths of her love for her husband and how much she longed to be one with him.

“Naeve,” Flame murmured, crawling up over her with her nectar around his lips. She kissed him hard, lapped the taste of herself from his mouth and then shared it eagerly with him once more as he positioned himself at her entrance. A glance between their bodies saw his cock hard and throbbing, surely as desperate to fill her as her heat longed to be filled. A moment passed as he stared longingly over her flushed cheeks and kiss-drunk eyes, up to the crown of flowers at her brow. Smiling he brushed a finger on them and drew close, the tip of him at her folds and both their lips agape with gasps.

“Gerlind said they were meant to bless the bride with fertility,” Naeve murmured coyly, brushing her lips to his.

The hellsguard smiled and kissed her back as he slowly pushed into her. “Then I pray she was told correctly.” Any reply Naeve had died in a surge of pleasure and the feeling of sheer fullness, his cock scraping on her tight walls so perfectly that her eyes lidded and she writhed beneath him. Flame's hands brushed on her shoulders as he leaned close, hips pulling back then slowly filling her once more. As always the rhythm started slowly, letting her adjust as he increased the pace. Her eyes flickered open to meet his, a few quick kisses passing with gentle whispers of each others' names while Naeve curled her legs around his body to let him go as deep as he possibly could. Wistfully she took the flower that had hung on his lapel the whole sun and gave it pride of place on her crown, knowing it would not stay there but relishing the sweet look he gave her along with a deep kiss.

They cried out in unison as their hips met, kiss torn apart into the throes of passion but their bodies taking up the cause in earnest. Trained by years of loving one another they made love in perfect step, meeting and parting without fail to please one another. Naeve's fingers held his cheek, stroking on smooth skin and rough beard alike with the utmost affection until his eyes fell closed and he breathed her name each time he filled her to his hilt. Though she shook with the passion of their lovemaking Naeve felt as tender as ever, like his love was a warm blanket wrapped tight around her to keep out the cold cruel world, and she endeavored to let him feel the same. For all that he called her a goddess, when she looked at him in his white finery she saw nothing less than a lord, a king, strong and wise and loving above all.

And he was her _husband_ , she thought with a tear of utter joy. Flame's lips brushed it from her face then he kissed her deeply again, his moans and hers reverberating together as he throbbed inside her and her walls tightened. She stroked his face while her other hand found his, twining their fingers together as they breathed into one another and gave themselves to one another in full earnest.

“Flame, by the gods,” she whimpered against his lips, hand moving to press him to her as she shook beneath him.

“Oh, Naeve, love!” he answered, his hips slapping hard against her to drive her heat to its peak. Her toes clenched while her thighs tightened around his waist, the viera's head pressing hard on the pillow beneath to send a lone white flower tumbling from her crown. She screamed his name in joy and passion, wave after wave of divine pleasure searing through her veins as her eyes squeezed closed. The image of Flame crying her name burned in her mind as she clung to him, weathering the blissful storm of her orgasm with the roegadyn as her rock.

Naeve felt him tense and throb, then warm seed flooded into her so deep she swore it sank into her womb. Gasping his name in her afterglow she clung tight to Flame while he groaned, stroking at his back and hair while his thrusts slowed to a halt. They were left panting away with bodies hot and sweaty, his member still inside her while they shared a string of gentle kisses.

“I love you,” the roegadyn breathed, then kissed her again. “More than anything, Naeve.”

“I would fight all of Garlemald for you, love,” she whispered, returning the kiss threefold until he slid from her flower. Slowly he moved to settle at her side and let her lay against him, her flower-crowned head nestling up against his neck to let him brush her ears with his lips. An arm circled her from beneath, holding her warm and tight in his loving grip while the hellsguard crooned to her.

“Would you like to rest?” he breathed into her ear.

Naeve smiled up at him. “We are not even undressed yet.” He looked across their bodies, her skirts still hitched up, his trousers still at his ankles with his smalls, and a laugh rumbled through his body to shake hers.

“Then we must needs amend that,” the roegadyn murmured with a wide smile, pulling away just enough to kiss her lips while his free hand lingered on her belly a moment. Naeve closed her eyes with his seed cooling inside her, and hoped that Feo Ul had spoken true to Gerlind about the crown of flowers. She offered a silent prayer to the Twelve, the gods of Dalmasca, whoever might hear and grant their wish.

_Please, let it take root._


	18. Liberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Anal Sex  
> Spoilers for Stormblood, also references to violence and suicide

Even bells later Mimimoru thought he might be dreaming, though the impact of that final blow still reverberated in his bones. His fist crackling with all their combined might slamming into Shinryu, unleashing that power as bolts of levin and light through the dragon's titanic frame. The final roar blasting him back to be caught by his allies as the primal fell from the eldritch realm yae Galvus had deemed worthy of their duel.

He wandered through the halls of Ala Mhigo fearing at any moment he would wake up, that he would be back in Ul'dah struggling to do what little he could to lighten the burden for those who had sought safety. At every turn he was cheered as one of the Warriors of Light who had led the van, who had slain Shinryu, who had felled Zenos yae Galvus. Would that they could claim the last, the monk mused bitterly, almost remembering the moment before he forced it from his mind. Fists tightened in black gloves, his chest still stained beneath his vest and blood marring the coeurl skin at his waist.

Mimimoru passed those allies as he walked, searching for one in particular. In the makeshift infirmary he saw Naeve and Flame, the viera smiling at him while a healer tended the scar in her breast that yae Galvus's katana had carved, the roegadyn as ever tending his lover. The sight of them made him smile a little though his heart rang with longing for that same sort of comfort. Continuing on he passed soldiers of the Resistance and the Alliance alike, Ishgardian knights beside Lominsan musketeers, Gridanian lancers alongside Ul'dahn thaumaturges. All Eorzea united to at last shatter Garlemald's grip on Ala Mhigo, the sort of thing he had dreamed of just a few short years before.

Even _Doma_ on their side, he thought as a group of wolf-like lupin approached. They bowed in the Eastern fashion and he returned the gesture, then he and they moved on.

Maurelin and Tahla kissed in a secluded corner, too lost in each other to notice him so he moved on with a little grin at the duskwight and keeper of the moon. Asmir he found chatting to a largely female group, naturally, the sandy-furred hrothgar's eyes squarely on an ananta fighter and honeyed words pouring from his lips to make the serpentine woman blush. The monk passed them with a wave to the white mage, Asmir acknowledging him with a fang-filled grin before returning to his 'duties'.

All enjoying themselves, the lalafell mused, stopping a moment to glance from a window and lifting himself up to peer over the sill. He was surprised none had laughed when it was said that he had dealt Shinryu the final blow, after all, whoever expected that from one so short? Size matters not, Cocolai had teased a lifetime ago, and Mimimoru laughed to himself at that memory. Indeed, he thought.

Too many primals had fallen before his fists for him to think his size made him any less a Warrior of Light. Any less of a hero.

More soldiers milled about, saluting him as they passed. Even with the main part of the Garlean forces soundly defeated, Ala Mhigo was large and there were a lot of nooks and crannies for the stragglers to hold out in. But there was no question that the battle was won, not when they had all sung the Ala Mhigan anthem from the rooftops, his voice joined to Gerlind's joined to Lyse's, rising to the heavens in victory. And even though he ached from the effort of fighting through the city, fighting Zenos and then fighting the possessed Shinryu, victory kept his heart burning. Slowly Mimimoru's doubts faded, the reality cementing itself. They had _done it_. Ala Mhigo's liberation was something he thought he might never see in his lifetime back then, a distant dream far beyond Baelsar's Wall.

When Ilberd's last gambit had dragged the Alliance kicking and screaming into fully pushing for that liberation, a part of him had been pleased, though he tried to temper that with the knowledge that they played into Ilberd's hands and justified every treacherous act and drop of blood shed. Gerlind had little kind to say of the Dull Blade, understandably, and Raubahn less so, but bad as it seemed Mimimoru had seen how the Griffin had given the lost sons and daughters of Gyr Abania hope where all others had failed. If fulfilling Ilberd's dreams was the price paid to see them home at last, then so be it, he had decided.

Lost in thought he found himself outside the palace once more, the streets heaving with the newly liberated people. They drank and sang and cheered in joy, mingling with their saviors in earnest. Flowers were handed to Ishgardian elezen, Ul'dahn highlanders, Lominsan roegadyn, many and more. A laughing woman passed, slowing just enough to perch a flower on his ear and kiss his forehead before she continued on her revel. The monk stared after her with a content smile.

“Mimi!” Before he could react to the presence he felt, arms wrapped tight around him and lips found his cheek. Immediately his tensing muscles relaxed with joy and relief, softening into the embrace as Cocolai held him. The other man wore a white tunic and trousers, the clothes that suited him in Ul'dah just as good for arid Gyr Abania, a satchel slung over his shoulder.

“Cocolai,” the monk murmured. Time had seen them changed, Mimimoru toned and hardened by battle and conflict while Cocolai stayed warm and gentle. Love and relief shone in the brown-haired man's eyes, another kiss falling on Mimimoru's nose before they just stood in their embrace. “I was looking for you.”

“They only just let us into the city,” Cocolai replied, he had been behind the lines to offer what support he could, after all. “But we saw the dragon fall and I knew... I knew it was you. That you were victorious.”

Mimimoru let himself smile as wide as he could. “We did it,” he whispered, and one arm left his lover's shoulders to gesture around them. “Ala Mhigo, _free_.”

Cocolai beamed back. “I feel the proudest man alive to have seen you do it.”

“Not just me,” the monk said. “All the others were here, and the Resistance and the Alliance too. It was a joint effort.”

“Of course,” the brunette agreed, kissing his cheek. “But who was it who sacrificed his family name and all it entailed to help the people of Ala Mhigo? Who was it who gave all he had to them when he had little enough as it was? And who was it who fought his way across half the world to see their home back in their hands?” Mimimoru could have argued the points, he wanted to, that was his way. He had never thought that offering a few desperate refugees a home would see him disowned. He had given much and more out of guilt for that failure. And what had he done but let the tide of war sweep him up and toss him to Hingashi, to Doma, to the Steppe, and back to Gyr Abania to finish what Ilberd had started?

But when Cocolai took his lips and kissed him warmly, every argument flew out of his mind, and all he wanted was to spend bell after bell with him.

With the battle done arrangements were being made for those who wished to stay a while, he remembered the Alliance leaders making those plans and dealing out the rooms that had been made secure. Though the battle was bells old the corpses were still being cleared away as they passed, Cocolai seeing them with raw eyes while Mimimoru's gaze could merely pass over the dead and continue on without pause. He tried not to linger even when the brunette hesitated, brown eyes fixed on the limp dead.

“How do you endure all of this?” Cocolai asked, stopping him a moment in a corridor. Bloodstains marred tiled wall and floor both around them, those who had bled long gone.

“Because I have the others,” Mimimoru murmured, his green eyes meeting the other man's brown. “And above all I have _you_.” Warmth and love swelled in his breast as he saw Cocolai's irises widen, a quick kiss passing between them before they continued on. A knight in Ishgard's colors directed them to cleared quarters, before the Garleans had come the palace would have housed many and more, but under yae Galvus much of it had lain as nothing but a monument to a tyrant past. The Warriors of Light had of course been assigned rooms, a woman in the hooded clothes of the Resistance saluting them and offering them one. Mimimoru thanked her with a bow.

“Thank you,” she said to him, eyes deep with emotion. “Because of you-”

The lalafell reached up to rest his free hand on her arm. “You and yours fought long and hard for this day,” he smiled. “I will do all in my power to see that that is remembered rather than eclipsed.” She smiled in answer and returned to her post while they entered the room.

It was certainly luxurious, the monk thought. Fine furnishings, a bed fit for a king and queen, the room sprawling around it with the emblem of twin griffins hung in silver on a wall. Polished marble for the wall and floor, and he felt he did not deserve it.

Cocolai stepped forward in wonder, still holding his hand. “All this for us...” He turned to face Mimimoru, already smiling as he took the monk's bruised hands. He winced a little, even with his gauntlets to weather the blows the fact remained that he had punched Shinryu's scales over and over. “You want to refuse it, I can tell.”

Mimimoru bowed his head. “You read me like a book, Coco.”

“As a lover should,” Cocolai smiled, lifting his chin with a finger to hold him in a warm kiss. “ _Accept_ it, Mimi. Stop acting like everything you have done is a trifle to be dismissed in favor of everyone else's efforts. Yes, acknowledge them, but the things you have done these past moons _deserve_ praise.” His gentle fingers stroked on a cheek, eyes warm and bright. “Doma free because of you. Ala Mhigo free because of you. Shinryu defeated and yae Galvus dead _because of you_.” The mention of Zenos's name forced the grisly memory back into the monk's mind. The katana coming to the prince's neck, biting-

He shuddered and clutched Cocolai tight, losing himself in his lover's arms. “I love you,” he whispered as Cocolai gently planted kisses across his forehead, gentle fingers stroking on his aching back while love and victory seared in his blood. Gradually he let himself accept it as the other man wished. They had _won_. Defeating van Baelsar had been a victory, ending the Dragonsong War another, true, but neither of those had been as personal as the fight for Ala Mhigo was for him.

That realization spurred him on and hungrily he kissed Cocolai, the brunette accepting just as eagerly. Both had feared for the other and that gave way to longing need, kiss deepening, hands eager to loosen clothes. Mimimoru's vest fell to the floor, Cocolai's satchel and tunic parting the kiss a moment to follow. Fingers soothed at the monk's aching muscles while his own traced over smooth brown skin, their faces pressed together once again.

Cocolai's hands descended to his lover's waist, rubbing along the coeurlskin wrap a while as their hips pressed firm, then undoing Mimimoru's belt to leave him in gloves, gaskins and boots alone. The monk whined into his mouth, the kisses growing deeper and needier as he returned the favor. Cocolai's trousers pooled at his ankles while his briefs began to bulge under the black-haired lalafell's calloused fingers.

“Mimi,” he groaned in a second of space, greedily stealing back his lover's lips to press his tongue between them. Mimimoru's eyes lidded hard while Cocolai tasted his mouth, the brunette gripping his rear to press their hips tight to one another and let their hardening members brush. The feeling of his cock on Cocolai's had him groaning into his lover, tongues dancing from one mouth to the other until the fact they needed air forced them to part an ilm. Cocolai's breath warmed his face, smelling of aldgoat stew.

“Were you cooking while I fought?” the monk smiled.

“Mayhap,” Cocolai purred, lips brushing his a moment.

“And you saved none for your hero?” Mimimoru answered, pulling back in mock outrage. Cocolai could not stop himself smiling as he chased the monk, kissing along Mimimoru's stubble-coarse jaw.

“Only because I knew I had a _special_ reward in mind for all his efforts,” the brunette winked, slowly falling to his knees while he pulled at Mimimoru's gaskins. Once unlaced they were easy prey for his hands, tugged right to the monk's ankles with his smalls to let his hard need sit before Cocolai's face. He licked his lips at the sight, his brown eyes meeting the green while a hand wrapped those wonderful fingers around the shaft.

“Coco...” Mimimoru whimpered as the hand slid up and down, a thumb sliding over the engorged head while Cocolai grinned up from where he knelt. The other hand circled the black-haired man's hip to find a buttock, tenderly squeezing and caressing his tight rear. Lust and love burned in tandem in Cocolai's eyes, the sheer pleasure of tending his heroic lover ever enough to work him into a frenzy of desire.

“What do you want, Mimi?” he teased, a long languid lick on the monk's cock pulling a groan from between his lips. “Once I finish sucking you, would you like to take me? Or would you rather have me inside you?” Before Mimimoru could even think of answering, heavenly lips took him between them, eagerly slipping his cock into his lover's mouth. His head tipped back in a gasp, Cocolai easily swallowing his entire length before slipping him back out.

“Cocolai-” His length disappeared between the other lalafell's lips again, scattering his thoughts in a whirlwind of pleasure but he loved every instant of it. He lived for the moments when they had each other and they could make sweet love, free of stress, free of fear and pain. So often they were separated unlike Naeve and Flame, Maurelin and Tahla, so the time they had together was ever spent savoring one another in anticipation that soon Mimimoru would walk paths too dangerous for Cocolai to follow. Bitter as that was, they both knew that Hydaelyn had chosen the monk for a reason, just as she had chosen all the Warriors of Light to bear the Echo.

He could no more deny that than hold back the rising tides.

Cocolai's face slid up and down his length, brown eyes fixed on Mimimoru's own until the point that his lips released the cock to dive lower.

“Oh, by Rhalgr...” he whimpered, his lover's lips kissing at his balls then taking one to suckle. Those glorious soft fingers kept his shaft attended, flowing over the slick length while he bucked his hips uncontrollably into Cocolai's grasp. “Coco, love, oh gods-”

Cocolai stopped sucking with a pop, a loving grin on his lips as one finger teased at his lover's tight hole. The monk's whimpering grew louder, uncontrollable between the hand working hard at his throbbing member and that finger threatening to slip inside him. “What would you like, Mimi?” Cocolai murmured, rising with both hands still at work. Mimimoru ventured a glance down to see the other lalafell's briefs tented, his cock clearly at full mast and ready for him.

It was not like him to force anything, but he ached with need beyond the point of holding back. His hands wrapped around Cocolai, all but dragging the other lalafell into him so their cocks brushed hard and tore a yelp from the brunette's mouth. “I would like you naked as your nameday, love,” Mimimoru breathed into Cocolai's mouth, hands tugging down the briefs to leave his lover exactly so. Whining with desire Cocolai answered by taking his member in hand to scrape the head against Mimimoru's own. His hand still groped on the monk's rear with the finger circling his hole, not yet ready to slip inside but ever teasing the possibility.

Awkwardly they dispensed with clothes and footwear, unwilling to break their close embrace and the delightful friction so they all but tumbled onto the bed still entangled. Cocolai lay on top, pressing his hips down to trap both shafts against each other between their bodies, hips rolling to scrape over and over while he devoured Mimimoru's lips like a starving man. They both were, starved of one another, starved by fear for one another, and Mimimoru's cock ached to either fill Cocolai or feel Cocolai fill him. In burning need they rutted against each other, hands free to tend bare bodies and tend they did. Cocolai stroked at Mimimoru's toned chest, fingers tracing muscle and scar alike, while Mimimoru grasped at his lover's rump with one and caressed his short hair with the other. The monk's own had grown into more of a mane after moons at sea, as unkempt as his stubble, but if anything Cocolai seemed to relish the more grizzled look. Somewhere in the rush he had lost the flower from his ear but there was no room to pay that much mind.

“Mimi, please,” Cocolai panted between kisses. “One or the other, please, I want it...” He kissed the brunette just as eagerly, hips rocking, mind blazing.

“Inside me, please,” the monk breathed when they parted. Cocolai scrambled to fulfill his wish, all but diving to retrieve his satchel from where it lay on the floor and giving Mimimoru a wonderful view of his rear in the process. The black-haired lalafell sighed in satisfaction as he watched. For a moment he basked in feelings, love, desire, joy, triumph, contentment, all swirling in his heart as Cocolai returned bearing a phial of clear oil.

“Oh, Thal's balls...” he breathed as Mimimoru took his cock and gently stroked, shivering while he fiddled with the phial's stopper. “Mimi, gods...” A trickle of oil fell to his hand and the monk released his shaft to fall back, bringing his legs up and spread. He watched enraptured as Cocolai stopped pouring and reached out. Then his head tipped back at the cool feeling of oil being worked onto skin and into him, soft fingers stroking around his tight hole while he tugged at his throbbing member.

“Coco, oh-” Lips pressed to his balls and he writhed in delight, oil-slick fingers still rubbing at his sensitive spot while his lover kissed up his length. Darkness enveloped him as his eyes lidded at the feeling of a finger pushing into him, testing the waters for Cocolai's thicker cock, but even that test had him shivering and crying out.

“By the Twelve,” Cocolai breathed onto Mimimoru's tip, finger retreating only to let his throbbing member brush on oiled skin. The monk had no words, only a lusty needing groan as the head was teased between his buttocks, up and down over the lubed hole.

“Coco, gods, don't tease-”

Cocolai chuckled. “I was only making sure my _hero_ was prepared.” The cock drew away and the monk heard his lover groan in delight, evidently lavishing himself with oil. He imagined Cocolai's hand working on his shaft, the brunette's head tipped back as those glorious moans panted out in time with each stroke over his throbbing head. The mere thought of it made him ache with need even before he felt the other member return, pressing into him without delay while he spread himself as much as he possibly could. His head pressed hard into the bedding and he cried out, forcing his eyes open to see Cocolai leaning over him with a rapt glow in his eyes.

Slowly they joined until their hips touched and all of Cocolai was inside him, the monk gasping with every movement that had the slick shaft scraping his walls. His cock leaked pre onto him, the head glistening with his pulsing need while he slowly stroked beneath his lover's eyes. Cautiously the brunette drew back then thrust in, desire and their foreplay combining to make him cut to the chase faster than he usually did. Soon he full thrust deep into Mimimoru, every slap of their hips sending a shudder right through the black-haired lalafell. Each time Cocolai took him right to the root he struck Mimimoru in the most sensitive spot, lights dancing over his eyes and passionate cries pleading for more.

“Oh, by Rhalgr, by the Twelve,” he wailed, feeling Cocolai take him in hand and stroke firm and hard. “Coco-!” His legs found his lover's shoulders and rested there, trying to let the cock inside him go even deeper if it were possible. Desperate to please Cocolai reached to grab Mimimoru's hips, rutting with all his might. Once he would not have dared go so hard, but practice had soothed both of their worries to the point that their sex was fierce. Balls tightened and the monk's cock throbbed furiously, his hand falling away when fingers slick with lingering oil reached to take over.

“So tight, Mimi,” Cocolai panted. “Are you close?” There were no words in his head, only pleasure, so only desperate nodding answered. “By the gods, I want to see it.” He nodded along, every thrust into his spot making him buck against Cocolai. The oily fingers on his shaft threatened to milk him for all he had with their tight slick grip working him just as fervently as the cock inside him. “Oh, love, I-I... Rhalgr-” Warmth splattered inside Mimimoru, his lover's cum hot and thick inside his tightness as Cocolai's head fell back in orgasmic bliss. The feeling of the warm spill inside him was enough to tip Mimimoru over his edge too, his own load spurting free to splash over his chest.

“Coco!” he wailed again and again, Rhalgr, the gods and the Twelve mixed into his climax-wracked cries while they both spent themselves on and inside him. Mercifully Cocolai did not stop thrusting or stroking, milking the monk of his seed before he slowed. His cock softened inside Mimimoru, no longer pressing so wonderfully on his walls but letting the cum inside him spread across them almost soothingly.

Panting they came to rest, still joined together, caked in sweat and Mimimoru soiled with his own release. Regardless Cocolai's eyes had nothing but love in their depths as they traveled his body, tracing the messy artwork painted on his chest in seed.

“I hope that is not all you have,” the brunette chuckled breathlessly.

Mimimoru smiled up at him. “I plan to treat you as you have treated me, Coco, don't worry.” Both of them laughed before Cocolai reluctantly pulled out, staring down at his lover's body a moment as Mimimoru felt drops of cum run down his skin in his wake. His own member softened between their faces, falling limp to brush lingering traces of his release on his skin.

Cocolai crawled to his side, laying against him on the silken sheets. “You will need a rest before that, I think.” Their lips brushed then kissed deep, afterglow making the taste of him sweeter. “But I would wait an age for you, so what is a little while?”

Mimimoru's gaze dipped on instinct, a little pang of regret in him intruding on the moment. “Sorry-”

“Sorry for what?” the brunette murmured, brushing his lips to the monk's forehead. “Mimi, today you freed Ala Mhigo from twenty years of pain and slew a primal I would venture the Dreadwyrm's equal in the bargain. Are you sorry that you accomplish such miracles?”

“Sorry that I must leave you waiting and praying each time,” he whispered.

Cocolai kissed him again tenderly, cupping his face with soft fingers. The last of the oil cooled his cheek. “I would be false if I said I did not wish for more time with you, but you are a Warrior of Light, Mimi. A hero, _my_ hero above all others, and answer me true, would you be happy to set that destiny aside for me?”

He could only shake his head no matter how much he wished otherwise. He would ache too much and his hands would not sit idle knowing he could be doing _more_ to help. Such was their wont. Mayhap that was why Hydaelyn chose he, Gerlind and their allies above all others as Her champions.

Another kiss, then Cocolai cuddled him close. “Do not be sad or sorry, Mimi.” Lips brushed his forehead. “Rejoice with me and with them.” He heard it now, the sound of singing from outside. The Ala Mhigan anthem rang once more from many throats with one voice, unified in triumph. “I am _proud_ of you and I love you, more than anything else in this world.”

Mimimoru clung to him and Cocolai to him in turn, the two resting in each others' arms while they listened to the singing. Love and pride swelled in the monk's breast at the sound. Again he remembered his fist alight with power, the seven beside him lending their strength to his blow. Shinryu tumbling from the heavens before the strike.

Ala Mhigo rejoiced in liberation, and Mimimoru closed his eyes. Lingering doubts washed away, leaving only the satisfaction of his duty done, victory achieved and Cocolai beside him.


	19. To Share the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cuckolding

The streets of Mist passed quickly, the looks and stares that bounced off his armor reverent, awestruck, appreciative. Maurelin grinned despite himself, returning nods and waves as the duskwight strolled back from a hard day's work. Tahla's absence ached at his side, it always did especially after leaving her had meant he hadn't been able to stand between Ifrit and her. But for once a group of random strangers hadn't left him cursing every step of the way home, the scholar doing her share of killing between bursts of magic that warded him against cuts and bruises, the bard and ninja carving a path through every group of foes they met.

A sack of gil and treasure rested over his shoulder and he was sure that drew a fair share of attention, but if any pickpockets or muggers considered it, then the sight of his still-bloody axe put them right off. The duskwight had few complaints about the apartment he and Tahla shared, it was _much_ better than their old cramped rooms at the _Kraken's Lair_ (even if he still saw fit to visit and share a pint with Ankabhar for old times' sake now and then) and the balcony especially they _relished_. But it lay a decent distance from the nearest aethernet shard, so even after teleporting he had some way to haul his gear back.

“Good hunting, Maurelin?” a wildwood woman smiled from where she watered her flowers in the garden of a pleasant little cottage. Hair the orange hue of flame flowed right down to her hips, brilliant in the sunlight.

The duskwight let the metal in the sack clink loudly with a little shake. “How does it ring to you, Tiphane?”

“Like you had a good catch,” she laughed. “How do you plan to use it? I hear the tavern's offering half price rounds this evening if that strikes your fancy?” She held the watering can without pouring as he stopped a moment, crimson eyes meeting her silver. The look in her eyes spoke a thousand volumes at once, a look he'd seen more and more recently.

“Thank you for the offer, but I must be about early in the morning,” he replied. “Enjoy yourself, Tiphane.” A frown turned her lips before he turned away, unsure what the feelings coiling inside him were precisely until he picked at them on his way. Defiance at her pity, the same kind that had lined him with spikes back in Gridania until Tahla came and shared his misery. Scorn that Tiphane did not understand, like everyone else who gave him that look.

“ _Such a good man, shame his lover's in beds up and down the town while he's left the fool.”_ That was what they thought and it _burned_ how they judged what they did not know. 

Mercifully the apartment building was close by that point, fifty more paces bringing him off the streets. He climbed the seven flights of stairs, tall enough to take the steps two at a time even though his weary muscles protested and the sack of loot clattered loud enough he thought the dead might wake at any moment. A wry grin crossed his lips at that notion as he reached the seventh floor, a round corridor passing in a few steps to the door. He found it unlocked, Tahla was home, then.

The door opened to the sound of breathy moans and whines, Maurelin stiffening before he crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him quietly. He drew his axe only to hang it on its hook by the door.

“Jhimei-” Tahla's strained voice groaned from the open bedroom, two steps to the elezen's right letting him peer in while he set the sack of loot down on the floor quietly. Clothes lay scattered haphazard on the floor, Tahla's and someone else's all mixed in a muddle. Their bed lay occupied, the covers and pillows tossed into disarray by the throes of passion. Tahla lay bare amid the sheets, dusky skin all on show, head pressed back while another woman lay between her thighs with her back to Maurelin. One nut brown hand caressed at snowy white hair and perked up ears, the other miqo'te's bushy tail swishing from side to side above slender hips and a sumptuous rear. But quickly the duskwight's gaze turned back to Tahla like iron to a magnet, passing C'jhimei's head buried in his lover's cunt to trace the claw mark in her belly, the hand fondling one breast while the other's nipple stood firm. The keeper of the moon's mouth hung open below eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, fangs brushing on her lower lip as she wailed the seeker of the sun's name again and again.

Maurelin stood frozen, unsure what to think or feel even as he felt his hot blood rushing downward. Seeing Tahla nude _thrilled_ him, and he would not deny that to see C'jhimei utterly bare as well in his first time seeing her at all was a pleasant surprise. But though his rapt gaze wandered over the white-haired seeker a little, he fixated on his lover while the other woman ate her out with passion plain in every bob of her head. The sound of it rang in his ears, the squelch of tongue in Tahla's folds, the lustful purr in C'jhimei's throat and the ecstatic cries from Tahla. His cock already stood hard in his breeches, making a tent of them while he observed.

Public opinion would tell him he ought to be _angry_ , after all, while he had wanted to let Tahla sate her every urge freely and told her so, he had never quite imagined he would come home to find another pleasuring her in _their_ bed. Nor that C'jhimei pleased her so well, from the way the keeper screamed when an arm came up to slide fingers into Tahla's sex as well. The keeper's head flicked up to look at the seeker, amber eyes brilliant with pleasure, and they rested on him a moment.

Tahla winked and grinned at him, stroking at C'jhimei's ears all the while. By the gods, he groaned inside his head, his voice lost when he tried to say the words out loud. The keeper's head fell back with a scream of joy, ears the color of iron twitching over the sheets and her dusky body writhing in a frenzy. Seeing her so debauched made him seethe with desire, but the thought of diving in to join them paralyzed him. Much as he yearned for Tahla, it was Tahla _alone_ he wanted. Even though she had given him leave to seek comfort with others while she lay in other beds, he had concluded that exercise pointless around the point he had lingered in a whorehouse searching fruitlessly for a keeper woman and realized he was chasing an echo of her.

So he stayed watching in silence while he all but shivered in arousal. Tahla's moans and wails rang in his ears, C'jhimei rising from her depths to purr while her fingers worked over the keeper's walls.

“Are you close, Tahla?” the seeker panted, her tail coiling to stroke on the other woman's leg while Tahla nodded with her eyes lidded. “Mmm, let me taste it.” C'jhimei descended once again and her renewed assault had Tahla's legs stretched wide as they would go. The dusky keeper bucked her hips and her back arched, the sight of her finally tearing a groan from Maurelin's throat. If C'jhimei heard she ignored him, clearly intent on licking and fingering Tahla all the way to climax, and climax his lover did. Screaming the seeker's name Tahla broke, body trembling as every second poured more sounds from her fit to drive him mad. Maurelin could not take his eyes off her, the way her hands ravaged her tits, how her mouth gaped wide while her eyes closed tight, the bucking of her hips against C'jhimei's head.

The sight of it stroked his own flame hotter, his member aching to bury itself inside her. A heady mix of jealousy and joy seethed away, happy that C'jhimei brought her such pleasure, eager to prove himself her equal if not her better in that aspect. The duskwight looked on as Tahla came to rest with her panting loud and breathless, C'jhimei climbing her body to take the keeper in a nectar-stained kiss. Tahla's cunt lay revealed to him at last, the bush around it soaked in her release and her thighs slick and glistening with it. Another groan at the sight and C'jhimei's ears flicked in alarm.

The seeker looked back at last with fiery orange eyes, the sight of him making them widen as she froze over Tahla.

“M-Maurelin?” C'jhimei whispered, Tahla's hand at her cheek doing nothing to soothe her obvious fear. She looked him up and down, eyes lingering on his breeches a moment but soon returning to his face. She made to cover herself as best as she could, an arm over her breasts, a hand cupping over her slit. Maurelin turned away, catching a wry grin on Tahla's lips before he stared at the wall instead.

“Thank you, Jhimei,” Tahla said behind him. “You can stay, if you would like. He wouldn't mind.” Maurelin could almost hear the suggestion “in fact, mayhap he could join us” playing in her lilt, but C'jhimei spoke quickly.

“No, I had best be on my way,” she said, and he heard her shuffling across the bed.

“Stay for dinner if you would like, C'jhimei,” he called. Her footsteps stopped a moment.

“Thank you for the offer,” the seeker replied bashfully. “But I really ought to go.” Cloth rustled as she dressed, Maurelin resisting the maddening urge to look back and see more of Tahla. Wait until she is gone, he chanted in his head. The rustling stopped after a short while, followed by the sound of a kiss. “I will see you soon, Tahla.”

“Be safe, Jhimei,” the keeper answered as C'jhimei's footsteps drew closer to him and then passed. He glanced as she reached the door, the seeker disheveled from dressing in a hurry, an apologetic look on her face as she slipped out as though trying to act like she had never been there. Once the door clicked shut Maurelin at last turned back around to find Tahla padding out of the bedroom shamelessly nude, tail playfully swishing as she advanced on him.

“I thought you would be longer,” the keeper teased, brushing a finger over his bulge. “But I suppose Jhimei and I gave you quite the show.”

“You certainly did,” the duskwight retorted. “She merely happened to be there.”

Tahla turned, tail stroking over his tight breeches as she strolled toward the balcony. He wondered if she meant to stand before the world naked, but she plucked a bottle of milk from a cupboard instead and took a deep swig. When she set it down on the counter and glanced back at him with a smirk, white droplets slipped down her chin. “Did the sight of us not _tempt_ you?” The warrior leaned against the wall, arms folded, cock straining while she downed another swig of milk.

“You are _wicked_ ,” he hissed.

Her tail coiled to brush over the small of her back while she capped the bottle and returned it to the cupboard. “And you _love_ it,” she purred.

Maurelin _wanted_ her, but he forced himself to stay a moment. Instead he began unlacing his armor, gauntlets first. “Why did you bring her back here, even if you did think I would be longer?”

She cocked her head. “She had business here earlier and we met at the tavern after, then one thing led to another.” The keeper chuckled. “Did you think I was trying to make you jealous, Maurelin?” How _innocent_ she acted with that playful grin, as though he had not walked in on her with another woman's face to her cunt.

The gauntlets dropped to the floor, his greaves next. “I would not put it past you, Tahla.” Her amber eyes narrowed, a vicious grin turning her lips.

“Let us say I did,” the keeper hissed, hips swaying when she slowly stalked toward where he discarded his armor. His breastplate fell away a step before she reached him, Tahla lifting her head to smirk into his eyes. “I say I succeeded.” Again she groped at his hard cock, a growl passing his lips. He lunged and she accepted eagerly, letting him kiss her ferociously while she ground her body against his. He could smell the seeker on her, parchment and ink against Tahla's familiar spice, the scent making him see Tahla writhing with C'jhimei between her legs again.

“Shameless vixen,” he snarled into her mouth. A hand descended between her legs, rubbing her slick thighs and only just brushing over her sex.

“Yes,” Tahla whined, kissing back harder and stroking him through his breeches. He kissed up the side of her face, burying his mouth into her hair then climbing the peak of her ear to nip on its tip. She whimpered in need and longing, it had been a few days since they had had each other even if C'jhimei had just tended her.

“Does she not sate you, Tahla?” Maurelin growled. “Is that why you had her for your starter and now you would take me for the main course?” Teeth closed on her ear and she cried out into him, reaching up to nip at his neck in turn. Fangs dug into flesh and the duskwight groaned.

“I relish you both,” she breathed hot against his throat. His hands fell to her rear, lifting her up to bring their faces level for another furious kiss. Her arms and legs clung tight to his body.

“I _want_ you,” he answered fiercely when they parted. “You and only you, Tahla.”

“Then take me,” the keeper hissed.

He carried her into the bedroom, dropping her to the bed roughly so he could nigh tear off his tunic and breeches. She helped him eagerly and soon he lay as bare as her, hard cock throbbing with the head soaked in his pre. Duly stripped he pressed her to the bed, straddling her to devour her mouth in his forceful kisses while her arms and legs wrapped around him. Every rock of their hips brushed his member on her skin, their tongues scraping on each other hard while his hand worked at her rump and teased the base of her tail, venturing to brush her still damp thighs.

She ripped her face away from his. “Jhimei does better than that.” He glared into her little smirk, worked into a fervor by her teasing to the point he slipped down to ram a finger into her sodden sex. The keeper wailed in surprise and pleasure both, shuddering while his mouth turned to savage her tit. “Maurelin, Twelve-” He bit down hard enough to bruise and her cry rang in his ears.

“Does _Jhimei_ finger your cunt like this?” he growled up at her. “Does she bite your tits like this?”

“No!” Tahla cried. “Oh, gods, harder-” Two fingers joined the one already inside, scraping on her walls, clenching then relaxing. Her tail coiled on his arm as her legs fell wide, her breathing reduced to animalistic pants and groans. Maurelin's blood burned through his veins, hot and furious with aching desire, C'jhimei's scent on her still haunting him. He had certainly smelled the seeker on Tahla before, and there had been the time she came back from the Sagolii Desert reeking of sex and another woman, but they had never made love so soon after she had slept with someone else. Knowing C'jhimei had had Tahla just before him made his desire seem to burn so much hotter and fiercer.

“She is welcome to share you,” the duskwight purred fiercely. “But I would hear you admit that I am _better_.”

Tahla's head lifted, her ecstatic expression turning playful with hooded eyes. “You will have to do _better_ than that, Maurelin.” With a snarl he buried his face in her neck, nipping and biting until her skin bruised beneath his mouth, the fingers inside her thrusting in and out rougher. Tahla's fingers clenched on his back with her nails scraping on the skin, leaving sharp pain in their wake like she was spurring a chocobo. The duskwight growled his answer to that and continued to savage her, her pants deep and desperate, a scream of his name leaving her.

“ _Say it_ ,” he hissed.

Tahla's head shook and she pounced, the warrior surprised enough he rolled over with her and let her take the top. The movement made him pull his fingers out of her, a whimper leaving Tahla at the loss of them before she had him pinned with hands on his chest. She hung over him a moment, a predatory gleam in those amber irises. Seeing her so majestic quickened his own blood, reminding him that keepers were huntresses before anything else. Tahla might have been from tamer folk, but sex never failed to ignite that spark deep inside her and bring her instincts to the surface. She descended on him, hips rolling atop his to brush her sex on his cock. The duskwight groaned at the feeling while Tahla marked his neck with her fangs, so close to drawing blood every time she bit into his skin. Pain and pleasure burned along the marks and he clutched her tight, digging his nails into her shoulder blades. “Menphina,” she growled, a rock of her hips sliding the underside of his shaft between her soaking labia.

“Is she a steed as faithful as me?” the duskwight purred into her ear while she continued her attack on his throat. Fangs grazed the lump in his throat. “Do you ride her all the way to the heavens?” Her lips turned to his jaw, climbing over his chin to claim his lips again. Maurelin buried a hand in her gray hair, pinching and pulling an ear until she whined into their deep kiss, her hips flowing her cunt over his cock again and again to send them both in a spasm of pleasure.

“Is it _Jhimei_ you want?” Tahla spat playfully. “You keep asking about _her_ while you pretend you want _me_.”

Maurelin growled and grabbed her, Tahla letting him overpower her with no resistance whatsoever. Once again they flipped over, Maurelin back on top, angling himself up with her. “You are welcome to her,” the duskwight retorted. “But I think you _crave_ me still.” His lips brushed her ear while his cock scraped at her slit, a low moan passing between her lips.

“Fuck me, you _bastard_.” Her fangs found his neck again.

“If you _insist_!” Cock thrust into cunt, Maurelin burying himself in her with a single hard thrust. Tahla's eyes fell closed as she cried out, the sudden feel of him inside her enough to wind her and leave her panting into his neck while he rutted without mercy. She writhed on his member, arms and legs vices around his body with her husky voice spilling desperate words.

“Yes, yes, by Menphina harder Maurelin!” she growled at his cheek, the duskwight kissing her hard while he obeyed. The sex was rough and fierce and aggressive, both of them ignited, both of them longing. Nails bit at flesh, her fangs sharp at his skin while her tail mussed the sheets beneath his rutting hips. Primal rhythm made their hips meet in time, the bed creaking under them from how furiously he made love to her but all he cared about was making her climax again and again until she had nothing more to spend. He burned kisses over her face and up to her ears, feeling her marking his throat more and more between her screams of raw ecstasy and relishing every time her fangs bit.

“By the Twelve Tahla-” he growled, another bite turning the words into a howl. They spurred each other on, his thrusts met by the buck of her hips, her nips at his neck making him dig his hands into all of her he could reach. Her thighs gripped him hard while her breath blazed on his skin, the scent of her hair stoking him hotter and hotter. Much as seeing Tahla come undone beneath C'jhimei's lips had made him eager, nothing could compare to making rough sweaty love to her, her whimpers and whines breathed on his skin, the tightness of her cunt gripping his cock every time he bottomed out inside her and thrust into her spot.

“Maurelin, oh Menphina-!” Her wails dragged him to the edge and over, the duskwight taking her like a beast while his seed poured into her. He bathed her walls in his release, grunting and gasping through his rut while Tahla shook with the power of his thrusts. When his climax ended he kissed at her ear and kept going with his cock softening, desperate to see her finish as well. Finish she did moments later, eyes rolling closed and a wail of his name right into him while her sex tightened. Her nectar spilled on his thighs, her body rocked by her pants rather than his thrusts with her back arched and her tail lashing.

Maurelin held her through her orgasm, his fervor spent to leave his kisses gentler and his hands soothing on her skin. They lay there a while as she murmured and purred, his member leaving her while her tail contentedly stroked at his damp thigh. Slowly Tahla opened her eyes, smiling up at him. “You are just as good as Jhimei,” she purred.

Maurelin laughed. “I sought to be _better_ , so I must needs improve.” A playful grin on his lips, he loved from between her legs to lay at her side with his head on her shoulder. When they stretched out his legs reached further down the bed than hers, the miqo'te rolling over to lean into him and wrap an arm around him. They lay naked atop the messy sheets and scattered pillows, staring into each other a while.

“Do you resent it?” Tahla asked suddenly. “Jhimei and I?”

Maurelin shook his head. “You are happy with her, Tahla, and that is what I care for. When I said she might stay for dinner if she wished, I meant it, she does not have to creep ashamed around me.”

“I know how they talk about us,” the keeper murmured. “They call you a cuckold.” Her tail brushed on his leg, stroking like her hands.

The duskwight stroked a hand of his own down her side. “Let them. I count it a badge of honor that I would rather see you happy in other arms than be left wanting in mine alone.” He smiled. “I did enjoy watching C'jhimei pleasure you, I admit.”

Tahla chuckled, grinning back. “Might I tempt you to join us one sun if she is interested?”

The smile on his lips became a smirk. “You may certainly _try_ , Tahla. Though I may just compete with her for the prize of pleasing you.” His fingers stroked at her ear and he kissed her hard. “Have I sated your thirst or do you yet long for more?”

The grin on her lips widened to bare her fangs. “I was thinking that we might shower together, and mayhap we could take some time to _enjoy_ it.”

“Another fine suggestion from a woman full of them,” Maurelin breathed, seizing her in a passionate kiss even while they scrambled to leave the bed.


	20. The Song of Falling Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Shower Sex  
> Minor Stormblood spoilers

Rain sang heavy on the roof of the little house, splashing on the tiles while Kuri lay awake beneath the covers. One of Zansei's arms lay draped over her petite body protectively, his breath warm on the nape of her neck while he snoozed away. The larger raen oft woke later than her, she had found, and she supposed the roegadyn who had challenged him to a drinking contest the night before had not helped that in the slightest. Fortunately that same roegadyn's wife was forgiving enough to help get Zansei back to the house, otherwise Kuri might have had to leave him slumbering away in the Carline Canopy under Mother Miounne's watchful eye. Lethal as her strength might be to man, beast and primal, it did not extend to being able to get a nigh-unconscious male au ra from Gridania to the Lavender Beds unaided.

The memory of it made her smile a little despite herself. The kind of thing she would _never_ have done back when she was a meek girl taking her first steps outside tradition and expectation. That girl had swiftly given way to the world, though, first Donatient's introduction to sex as more than a sating of need, then the night the starshower fell ending with her one of Hydaelyn's chosen. And of course, that refined, reserved Kuri would never have fallen so for a tribesman from the Steppe to the point of making love to him in the heady aftermath of battle.

Gently slipping from beneath Zansei's arm, Kuri stepped out of bed. She wore a plain white nightdress that hung just above her knees, skin and scale trembling as she shivered in the cool air without the covers and Zansei's body to warm her. The russet-haired raen looked back at her lover as he snored away, a smile crossing her lips as she traced his muscles with her eyes. He was beautiful to her gaze, the red highlights in his black hair standing out even in the half light that peeked through the curtains, horns curving around the line of his jaw. He slept naked, of course, his clothes scattered around her feet where she had undressed him the night before.

Sighing Kuri padded barefoot over wooden floor, leaving the bedroom to seek the bathroom. Her house was a bungalow, small and cozy, but it was _home_ and it was enough. In the hallway katana and bow hung in their places, the raen lingering to cast her golden eyes over both. Her tail swayed behind her legs as she continued, crossing the hallway into the bathroom. Tiles replaced wood, not quite pure white but still close, a a lamp illuminating the room. A washbasin on her left, a shower cubicle to her right. Kuri slipped the nightgown's straps off of her shoulders, feeling the cloth pass over her scales as it slid down her body to lay around her feet. Naked she stepped forward and glanced at herself in the mirror over the washbasin. Full breasts swelled on her chest, half coated by scale, the other half browning skin. One of her horns broken, a gunblade bullet had torn fragments of bone from it during the battle of Ala Mhigo, but the wound healed well as did the cuts in her face where those fragments had lodged. Her hair grew long and unkempt, she kept meaning to cut it but every time she tried Zansei bemoaned the loss of her locks.

Even thinking of his strenuous protests made her laugh, though that was Zansei in a nutshell. Her eyes shone back at her, bright and happy over a little nose and thin lips that smiled wide. She brushed stray strands of hair from her face before stepped into the shower, drawing the curtain closed behind her. Thoughts of Zansei reminded her of his reaction to it, his amazement at how she could draw hot water to wash herself. After all, in Hingashi he had bathed in a hot spring and on the steppe washing was done in rivers and streams. At every turn in Eorzea he seemed amazed, she reflected as she turned the faucet and drops of cool water brushed on her skin from above, arms wrapping tight to her breasts while the raen shivered and waited for the shower to heat.

It soon did, warming her skin and bone. Kuri stood at the center, head tipped back to let the water run down her face and through her hair. It cascaded down her front, through her cleavage, over her breasts down across stomach and hips. Hands ran over herself, basking in the wonderful heat while she gently crooned words into the flow. Her voice rang clear above the crash of the rain and the splashing of the shower alike, echoing off the walls while she took a moment to just let her stiff muscles loosen. Stretching made her fingertips brush the tiles, her tail raised up to touch on her back then coiling around the side of one leg. The spikes toward its tip lightly touched on her scales and Kuri drew it back, bowing her head so she could open her eyes while she stepped out of the falling spray to rest her back on the wall.

Retrieving the soap from where it sat in its dish she began to rub at her wet neck, gently sighing in contentment as the bar massaged her skin and left creamy suds in its wake. From there it flowed to her shoulders, painting skin and scale wherever it ran. She coated both arms and rested the bar above her bust, relishing in the feel of it on sensitive breast when she continued. All the while she sang, flowing from tune to tune she had committed to memory over the course of her journey.

A shadow fell over the curtain a moment before a hand pulled at it, Zansei flowing through to stand with her. He was a good height taller than her even though he was short for an auri man and she tall for a woman of such, muscular from a hard life on the Azim Steppe. Without the covers in the way Kuri dipped her eyes down to admire him fully, the tanned skin, the expanses of his white scales, his length half-hard while the water dripped down it. She smiled a little at the sight and looked up to his eyes, the brown of oak rimmed by a silver white in his irises. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful part of his world no matter how much time passed, and the devotion in the depths of him made her blood sing with love.

“I thought you would want to sleep long,” she said apologetically over the din of the shower, putting the soap back in its dish. “You and that roegadyn came close to drinking Mother Miounne out of stock.”

Zansei chuckled, stepping right beneath the spray so he could lean in and press a peck on her lips. “A songbird woke me from my slumber,” he murmured. “A bird with a voice fit for a queen, crooning the sweetest of tunes to me while the bed lay cold with her absence.”

Kuri blushed. “Your flattery is unending as ever at least.” As he rose up again she chased his lips by standing on tiptoe, kissing him long under the shower's fall. The suds she had rubbed on her skin flowed away down the drain, leaving the both of them bare and glistening wet. One of his hands cupped her breast, gently stroking at it while she brushed her lips to his throat.

“I missed you last night, my songbird,” he breathed to her.

The bard playfully nipped at his skin. “That is your own doing, Zansei.” His fingers squeezed harder and she mewled, head tipping back further and letting him kiss her hard. Much as she teased, his touch began to stir her loins and she rewarded him with a languid stroke of fingers across his member.

“Songbird...” he hissed. “Kuri...”

Kuri pulled him closer to wrap herself around him, the top of her head only at the level of his shoulders so her horn lay against his chest. His member grew harder against her waist, one hand stroking through her hair and the other rubbing circles in the small of her back. He had to bend down to kiss the top of her head, a wry smile on his lips when he drew back. His tail coiled around to her side, her own copying him so that their tips could brush and rub in another point of embrace.

“Does your head not ache?” she murmured, eyes hooding at the gentle brush of his fingers through her locks.

“Not so much that I do not long for you.” Zansei loosened her embrace by pulling back, sinking down to her height. Greedily he kissed her hard, pressing Kuri against the wall while the hand on her back slipped under her arm to sample a breast once again. His thumb rubbed circles on her pebbling nipple until she mewled into his mouth, her hand stroking his hardness to reciprocate. Their wet bodies brushed together a moment then slipped apart again to let him kiss lower. As though blessing an altar he carefully pressed a line of kisses over her jaw, down her throat, between her breasts and across her stomach, every one loving and reverent.

“Zansei,” she breathed down at him while his lips brushed the scales around her quim. Then she gasped aloud at the feel of him parting her lips, brushing over her damp folds with his mouth then slipping his tongue into them. “Oh, Zansei...”

He left her sex a moment to grin up at her. “Sing for me, Kuri.” He dived back in eagerly, tongue stroking and scraping her petals until she shook at the knees and wailed a rough melody for him above the song of the falling water. Zansei lapped at her like she was the finest wine, the most succulent food and his worship left her breathless in delight. He rubbed calloused hands up and down her thighs while he tended her petals, his tail eagerly lashing behind him while hers came around to brush on his shoulder. His horns scraped her legs when he pressed his mouth to her as deep as he could but the bard did not care, riding the waves of pleasure with her head tipped back. Her hair was a river down her back, her hands buried in his hair to rub at his scalp and try to guide him. The song of her joy rang from the walls around them, louder and louder by the moment.

Zansei released her hesitantly, slowly kissing back up her body. He stopped to lavish a nipple with kisses and licks before he returned to her face and took her lips. The taste of her was all over his mouth while they kissed deeply with his hands rubbing her up and down. One left her a moment and returned with the soap, running it over her body lovingly while he continued to tend her lips, his cock throbbing against her thigh while she stroked it with one hand. He groaned into her mouth, reluctantly breaking the kiss to lather her front with much focus on her bust to her delight. Across her arms, over her stomach then down. He rubbed the bar in circles over her sex until she whimpered then went lower, coating her legs and tails in suds.

“My love,” she moaned as he rose, taking the soap from her. She lathered him in turn, Zansei stroking at her hair while she worked to coat skin and scale all over. She saved his member for last with a mischievous smile at his disappointment, even seeing his whole tail done before she laid a hand on his cock. Her soapy hand ran up and down the length until her lover groaned, hips rocking gently into her touch.

“My Azeyma,” he purred against her lips before kissing her hard again. He pulled her with him as he stepped back beneath the full spray, faces pressed together with his horn brushing on her throat, hot water cascading over every ilm of their bodies. Again their tails joined beside them, caressing, her spines scraping against his scales. Zansei reached down between her thighs, bending a little to reach her sex and stroke his fingers between her folds. Whimpering she took him in her hand, matching his pace. Their foreheads pressed together, eyes closed against the water, eagerly pleasuring each other while they bathed in the steaming heat.

Zansei throbbed between her fingers, Kuri tightening her grip to tease a shiver and a groan from him. She panted in turn, gasping his name at the feeling of three of his fingers buried within her. Zansei curled them with a chuckle and the russet-haired woman wailed with head tipped back, feeling the shower's fall splash right on her face. She dripped with water and need both, trembling under his glorious touch.

“Zansei, please,” she pleaded, brushing her lips to his again.

“What would you have of me, songbird?” he breathed huskily.

“Make love to me,” she cried as his thumb brushed her pearl. His fingers coiled against her walls again and Kuri shook at the knees, moaning against his face. “Please...”

Zansei's fingers slipped out of her, the bard whimpering at the loss of him before his hands slipped to her rear. Kuri was forced to release his member when he lifted her, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs over his hips when he pressed her back against the wall. This was dangerous, she knew it was, the shower floor slick but Zansei seemed to relish that fact as he brushed his cock head against her sodden petals. Their eyes slipped open to meet and stare, lips tender on each other before he let her slip down a little, pressing inside her.

Kuri's eyes slid closed again, gasps slipping through agape lips. “Oh, Zansei-” Her lover kissed at her face as his hips worked, sliding his shaft in and out gently to begin with. She gasped and groaned, tightening her arms around him while her head slowly tipped back to let her sing to the ceiling, the rain, the sky. Their song soon rose above the sounds of shower and rain, his breathy praise and groans of her name when all of him was inside her, her breathless wails and cries to him and the gods flowing together. Making love to him was composing a carnal song of them and them alone, always slightly different but always perfect when she bathed in it and him.

“You are perfection,” Zansei panted into the hollow of her neck, bouncing her on his shaft again and again at an unrelenting pace. “Praise the gods for letting me be with you, Kuri.”

“And for bringing me to you,” she gasped. Zansei kissed hard at her throat, words of worship descending into passionate moans and cries in turn as they neared their peak. Tiles scraped at her back but the pleasure burning through her overwhelmed all, the feel of him against her washing the world away more and more by the second. Her tail and his joined beside them, twining together with his wrapped between her spines, another way in which their bodies joined in transcendent love.

Kuri rocked between him and the wall, throat burning but her body alight with levin. Zansei's cock found her spot again and again, their position and their slick bodies making his thrusts delightfully inconsistent in how they landed. But that touch only made her relish it more, sweat joining the water on their bodies, water splashing around their feet as they both cried each others' names. The echo of their voices drowned out everything else, her eyes squeezed closed while she poured out pleasure-addled thoughts in his name, divine names, pleas for more all in the same breathless wails.

“Kuri, by Azim I-” Even though a groan of pleasure devoured his words Kuri knew where the sentence headed, rising and falling onto him while she tipped her head forward to kiss him hard again. Tiles scratched at her scales and she gasped into his mouth, Zansei slapping into her again and again while he gasped her name. His member throbbed hard inside her, signaling his end while pushing her against the edge of her own. She danced on that edge, burning in love for him before the feeling of his seed spilling into her sent her tumbling.

“Zansei!” she screamed above the din of water, kissing him feverishly while she shook in his grip. A tidal wave of pure ecstasy crashed onto her and swept her up, leaving her breathless atop her peak. Zansei came down beneath her with his breath on her breasts, her rock, her throne, supporting her all through her orgasm. In every way he held her, tail on hers, hands keeping her aloft, cock still inside her when she crashed back to herself. Shaking in his hold she opened her eyes to stare into his loving eyes, their lips meeting once again.

Zansei slipped out of her and gently put her down, panting while he embraced her. She felt his seed trail over her thighs before they stepped into the water to cleanse themselves of sweat and release, their tails still joined at their side. Kuri stroked her hands over him and he over her, their deep breaths coming from grinning mouths as the shower's heat joined their lingering afterglow to bathe them in joy.

He kissed her again hard and grinned wide when they parted. “The rain sings fair today and so does the water's fall,” he murmured poetically, “but the song of making love to you is the sweetest I shall ever hear, songbird.”

“As ever I pray we sing it often and always,” Kuri breathed, closing her eyes to kiss him again. Caressed by the falling water and his hands, she felt wrapped in love and comfort. Utterly at peace, she thanked all the gods there were for her bliss.


	21. Upon Her Spear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Pegging

The wind howled outside the Topmast apartment, fierce enough that venturing outside was a risk Tahla decided not to chance that sun. A lash of rain on the windows and a boom of thunder only made that decision seem wiser. That she still ached a little from the battle with Titan confirmed it, the effort of dodging landslide after landslide, the pain of being encased in rock waiting for her allies to break her free.

But fortunately she had something else to occupy her time while they waited for the storm to pass.

Her lips met Maurelin's while their hands struggled with clothes, his tongue brushing over her fangs. Hers slipped into his mouth, her skirt falling away to let him grope at her arse and tail with a thumb in the spot that drove her wild. Tahla tackled him onto the bed, pressing him into the mattress as she worked off his breeches.

“I can certainly think of worse places to be caught during a storm,” Maurelin laughed breathlessly between kisses. Tahla ground atop him, drinking him in. New scars on his chiseled chest, trophies won from battles fought with and without her. She traced parallel claws over one nipple with her mouth, leaning in to suckle a moment while he stroked her ears and his other hand continued to work on her tail.

“How _tame_ of you,” Tahla purred, her tongue brushing over the nipple while he groaned at the feel of her on his hardening cock. “I thought you might have liked to try making love beneath it.” His red eyes looked her over, full of desire. By this point he had her down to panties and nothing else, Maurelin leaning in to sample a breast until she whined for more with fingers rubbing along the hem of his briefs.

“I do not fancy catching our death of cold, exciting as that prospect sounds,” he deadpanned once he had finished suckling her nipple to a peak, immediately turning to do the same to the twin. Tahla's eyes lidded, the feel of his lips at her tit and his hand still groping on her rear making her shiver and moan in lustful need. Her tail brushed on her back as it swayed excitedly.

“Then mayhap you would like to try something _else_ exciting?” she teased into his ear, kissing at it while he continued to lip, suck and nip at her chest.

“Do I sense another suggestion?” Maurelin smirked, leaning back just enough to meet her amber eyes with his red. His husky breath fell warm on her face and she kissed him hard and needing again, loving his hands clenching on her rump and head while they writhed.

They parted panting all too soon, the duskwight's eyes still questioning while he grinned. Tahla rocked atop his hard member a moment, teasing out a hiss of want from his throat and grinning.

“Would you like to try it today?” she asked, grin baring her fangs at him. Maurelin stared back at her, hands slowing on her body while he considered it. Finally he grinned back.

“I suspect you will make a misery of this sun if I refuse,” he teased. “And it would be a shame after all that preparation.”

Tahla laughed. “Anything to avoid admitting you _want_ it.”

His grin turned feral and he lunged to kiss her again. “You _vixen_ ,” he snarled as their lips met. She rolled her hips through the kiss, rubbing her sex on his cock again and again until she was sure her panties were utterly sodden. He gave as good as he got, that thumb at the base of her tail digging in until she growled into his mouth, fingers hard and rough. They kissed and ground until their lungs burned in protest, falling apart panting like animals. Much as Tahla loved C'jhimei too, much as she loved the seeker's gentler ways, nothing made her blood burn like working Maurelin into a frenzy and letting herself loose with him.

Tahla slowly dismounted him, still heaving in breaths as she crossed the bed. As usual the bedding lay in disarray, even when they weren't making furious love and tossing it all in a tangle neither of them tended to pay it much mind. Feeling his eyes on her as she crawled, the keeper of the moon reached for a drawer in the bedside dresser and retrieved her prize from it with a grin. Leathery straps dangled as she spun back to face Maurelin holding the strapon up, fangs resting on her lower lip in an impish smile. Red and rubbery in her hand, it was a decent length and girth with its base rune-carved, modeled after a particularly virile seeker nunh according to the eccentric elezen who had sold it.

Maurelin looked it and her up and down, his briefs still tented. “You never did say where you and C'jhimei got that.”

“The Erotic Delights of Sharlayan,” Tahla purred, receiving his incredulous look with a chuckle. “A Sharlayan merchant Kuri knew who peddles this sort of thing. She heard he was coming to Limsa, made the trip specially and invited me along.”

Maurelin nodded, then did a double take that made her laugh again. “ _Kuri_?” She nodded with a smirk, that had been her reaction too. Kuri was not exactly open, but every impression they had gotten of the raen woman was that she was prim and proper and innocent. Not exactly the sort of soul either of them imagined would have known a sex toy merchant, let alone making the trip from Gridania specifically to browse his wares again.

“He definitely remembered her,” the keeper chuckled while she lay to work off her panties. “Fawning over how she'd made a name for herself.” They both laughed at that while she finished undressing, working the toy's straps into place while the elezen watched fascinated. She moaned as it brushed on her sex, its rear slipping into place against her folds while she fitted it around her hips.

“Did you really buy that just for you and C'jhimei, or did you always want to try it on me too?” he teased, working off his smallclothes to let his cock stand free.

Tahla gave him a wicked grin. “I might have had that in mind as well.” She finished tightening the last strip and stroked at the artificial cock, drinking Maurelin in again with a lick of her lips. “Come here.”

The elezen shook his head and smirked back with a stroke of his own cock. Tahla hissed, retrieved a phial from the drawer and stalked over the bed toward him, the strapon swaying beneath her hips as she moved like a panther. “Are you going to make this _difficult_?”

“If you expect me to roll over for you like _Jhimei_ , you will be disappointed, Tahla,” the duskwight grinned. Tahla stopped over him, blood burning as she knelt before him. As much as he teased, she could see the want in his eyes, his genuine curiosity. He _wanted_ her to take him, but Maurelin was Maurelin, stubborn and aggressive.

And she _loved_ it.

Tahla moved like a predator, stalking her hips and the strapon before his mouth. At the same time she reached for his cock, fingers wrapping around it to work the shaft up and down. “Are you afraid to suck my cock, Maurelin?” she purred. “I have taken yours so often without complaining.” Her fingers tightened and he groaned, Tahla seizing that opening to slip the toy between his lips. The elezen took it with a little difficulty, adjusting to the unfamiliar sensation. They had worked to prepare his arse, of course, her slick fingers and her tongue inside him, but they had never used the strapon at all.

Maurelin's eyes lidded as he slowly moved up and down her shaft, the motion causing it to rub on Tahla's sex. She sighed at the sensation, a hand stroking in his off-white hair then slowly pressing him to take more. The duskwight tensed against her, pressing back, and she grinned down at him. They struggled playfully, Maurelin only giving ground once he was sure he had her blood up, Tahla tightening her fingers around his cock and stroking in time with his mouth. Her lover moaned on the toy, the move of his mouth making its base scrape on her folds and her moan in turn.

“Good boy,” she purred at him. His eyes narrowed and he pushed back against her hand, only for her to buck her hips and push deeper into his mouth. The duskwight growled around the cock in his mouth, glaring at Tahla while she thrust and worked him in tandem, her head falling back at how each thrust pressed the strapon against her own sex. Donatient may have been eccentric and his tights far too _tight_ , but his craftsmanship was incredible.

Her thrusting finally grew too much and Maurelin choked and gagged, ripping her from her bliss. The keeper immediately pulled from his mouth, letting him cough spittle onto the bedding while she stroked at his hair.

“Were you trying to choke me?” the elezen hissed, glaring up at her. Tahla grinned, fangs scraping over her lip.

“Mayhap I thought you were _enjoying_ it,” she teased, retrieving the phial from where she had left it in the sheets then padding around his body on all fours. Maurelin lifted his head to watch her move to his rear, her fingers on his rump teasing a little smirk to his lips. Tahla leaned over to kiss at his neck, brushing her fangs on his nape until he groaned and running her tail across his thigh. “How did you like the taste?”

“I might have appreciated it better without you trying to fuck me unconscious,” he deadpanned, growling as she nipped at his skin.

“I would never do that,” Tahla purred at his ear, one hand grasping the slick strapon to stroke its head up and down his rump. “I want to hear how you sound when it's _you_ taking the cock.”

“Then you have to do _better_ than that,” Maurelin growled, trying but failing to hide his arousal. Tahla ghosted a hand across his hip to grasp his cock again, marking his neck with suckles and bites while she continued to play with him. Slowly she slid down, running her kisses over his spine and brushing her teeth on his skin, hand on his shaft still working away while she approached his arse. The elezen groaned at the feel of her tongue slipping between his smooth cheeks.

“Is _this_ good enough?” the keeper of the moon hissed, her hand taking his balls before she lapped at his tight hole. Maurelin moaned through clenched teeth as her tongue scraped over him again and again, cock throbbing above her grip while she purred into his rear. Even without the friction of the toy pressing into her, her sex was soaked and burning, eager for more of him. Fingers clenched tight around the phial in her hand and she grinned before pressing her tongue into him a little.

“Tahla!” the duskwight growled, unable to contain his pleasure. She emerged from him with a chuckle, meeting a look over his shoulder with her own amused grin.

“And I've only just begun,” she teased, releasing his member to hold the phial up to his gaze. Quickly she removed the stopper, pouring a little oil onto her fingers while she shuffled back up the bed. The miqo'te nipped at his back again while her slick digits played between his arse cheeks, brushing carefully across his damp hole.

“Stop teasing and finger me,” Maurelin snarled, glaring over his shoulder and bucking his hips impatiently. Tahla tutted with a shake of her head, but she kept smirking regardless.

“As you wish.” Carefully she slid one finger into him, watching his eyes lip and his lips part as it sank deeper. A low growl escaped him when she pulled back, taking his measure as she had before. Maurelin grasped himself as she worked, stroking at his shaft while his head tipped back. Though there was room yet, his virgin walls were still tight around her.

“Thal's balls,” the duskwight moaned, another finger slipping into him and her fangs at his neck once again.

“How _tight_ you still are,” Tahla purred at his throat, a fang scraping over his skin. “And for someone who acts like he doesn't want this, your cock is so _hard_.” Her free hand played down to take his balls again, rubbing them between her fingers.

“Damn you to the seventh hell, you _vixen_ ,” he spat, eyes slipping open. Tahla grinned at the desire in their depths, clenching her fingers inside him until he cried out. “Tahla!” She let go of his balls to grip her fake shaft, brushing it against him while her fingers continued to slide in and out, in and out. He panted in her grip, already worked into a frenzy before she had even put the toy to use.

“Are you ready?” she hissed into his ear, brushing fingertips over his wall.

Maurelin grit his teeth, but nodded. “Go on, you teasing wench.” The insults were like flattery to her ears, they always were when they made love. Sharp and mocking as they were to one another, they both knew that there was love in the teasing and harsh words they shared, and much as she might seek other company she would always come back to Maurelin for it.

Tahla pulled her fingers out of him. “How do you want to be taken?” she purred. “On your side, like this? On all fours like a _beast_? Or on your back so I can watch you _squirm_?”

“As if I would give you the satisfaction,” Maurelin teased, rolling over and getting on his hands and knees regardless. His cock hung hard beneath him and she gave it a stroke while she moved into position, spreading him to see the oil still glistening on his hole. Even so she reached for the phial to lather him with more, once she had mentioned she might try the toy on Maurelin Donatient had been quite strenuous in his advice regarding the need to prepare. So much so that she was sure the Sharlayan had _personal_ experience, not that that surprised Tahla in the slightest.

Once she was satisfied, she poured oil onto the strapon, working it across the fake cock until it glistened. Setting the phial aside the keeper shuffled into place behind him, stroking the toy against him. “Are you sure?” she asked, the mocking tone dropped for a moment. It was a bit late to be checking for second thoughts with them both already in place, she chuckled to herself, but even so she wanted to be certain.

Maurelin looked back at her. “Yes,” he grinned.

Slowly and cautiously, Tahla pressed into him. His fingers clenched in the sheets as the strapon brushed on his inner walls, sinking deeper and deeper ilm by ilm. Maurelin groaned as her hips met the back of him, the whole length buried inside and the base pressing against her slick folds. He said nothing while she let him adjust, stroking her fingers over his hips. Gentle for now.

Rough could come later, she grinned.

“Are you going to wait until I go soft again?” Maurelin purred, and Tahla laughed, sliding back then forward again. Gradually she quickened her pace, whining and hissing each time she took him to the hilt and scraped the toy over her sex. In time they hit their stride, hips slapping lightly while they both panted and cried out. She found his spot with trial and error, making the elezen cry her name and crying his in turn at the glorious new sensation of taking him.

Sweat ran over their skin as Tahla leaned over him, slamming her hips into his in search of his release. The keeper nipped at his flesh again, her tail coiling and lashing behind her with every thrust and every cry from his lips. She dug her nails in and Maurelin snarled.

“Harder, woman!”

“You think you can take it?” she purred, taking him with all her might. Each time she bottomed out it sent a delightful shudder through her, her cunt utterly soaked and desperate to release, his cock leaking pre when she stretched a hand down to stroke him. The elezen moaned with a thrust right into his spot, shaking with the force of her ruts while he met her tempo. “Cum for me, Maurelin!” she gasped, mockery vanishing in the throes of passion to leave only desire and need.

“By the gods, Tahla-!” She kissed his back then dug in her fangs to mark him, Maurelin _wailing_ at the thrust she landed in time. He could take no more, throwing back his head to cry her name while he spilled himself all over the bedding. The miqo'te clung to him, continuing to rut in pursuit of her own climax, driving the strapon into him while she too panted and moaned.

“By Menphina, Maurelin, oh-!” He slumped down before her, utterly spent as he lay on bedding sodden with his seed, but Tahla was lost to her own climax crashing upon her. She screamed his name to the ceiling and beyond, staining the toy and its harness in her nectar while she fell into a blissful heaven. Her tail stroked over her back in her throes, hands tight on Maurelin's hips to weather the storm, a wordless wail of ecstasy ringing in her ears.

Tahla slipped out of him, panting as though she had run a marathon, and tumbled to lay beside him as he too fell prone without her holding him up. They stared at each other, amber eyes on red, both burning with love and satisfaction, hands caressing at each other peacefully.

“Did I satisfy you?” Tahla purred once she had her wind back.

“Mayhap,” the elezen smirked, glancing down at the nail marks in his hips. “I shall be sore come the morrow thanks to you.”

Tahla laughed. “And how often do you leave me limping about?”

“Only because you _long_ for it,” Maurelin chuckled back. His hand found her cheek, stoking softly despite the callouses in his fingers. “Oh, what would I do without you, Tahla?”

“Survive, I am sure,” she smiled, shuffling closer to embrace him tight. Sodden bedding lay cold beneath her, but his arms were warm enough and more for her to ignore it. “I hear there is good work in Coerthas.”

Maurelin sighed. “There is also ice and snow aplenty in Coerthas.”

Tahla poked him in the ribs playfully, nuzzling at his neck. “But think of all that Ishgardian gil for our trouble.”

The duskwight heaved another sigh but kissed her brow, and she was sure he grinned.


	22. Sun, Moon and Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Threesome  
> Spoilers for the end of ARR

C'jhimei tasted meat, wine and victory. In the streets outside the apartment, every corner rang with cheer and joy, the citizens of Eorzea pouring from their homes to celebrate the destruction of the Ultima Weapon. The devastation of Castrum Meridianum. The defeat of Gaius van Baelsar.

The triumph of the _Warriors of Light_.

The white-haired seeker looked at two of those heroes, feeling tiny beside them all of a sudden. The bedroom was lit by candlelight to cast flickering shadows on the walls around them, the bed around which they stood lying unmade as usual. Her tail swayed anxiously to brush on her blue dress, her bangs brushing over her eyes. Maurelin and Tahla both smiled at her, new scars on their skin, new pride in how they stood.

How had a drunken night of passion led to this, C'jhimei wondered. For moon after moon she had watched them rise, heard how Tahla helped defeat Ifrit, Titan, Garuda while she prayed for the keeper's safety. But now they were the very stuff of legend and yet they still wanted _her_ to join them in their celebration. Her, just a humble clerk, fit to dine with and lay beside heroes in the flesh.

“You look nervous, Jhimei,” Tahla murmured, the iron-furred keeper moving around the bed to take her hands.

“I have a lot to take in,” C'jhimei chuckled, leaning in to meet the other woman's kiss. Hands flowed up arms to rest on shoulders, tails meeting and twining at their side. Tahla tasted of wine and spice, new mementos of battle beneath her shirt when C'jhimei ran a hand over her spine. The keeper turned while holding the kiss to reach to the duskwight behind her, Maurelin eagerly joining the embrace on her other side and leaning down to plant his own kisses against Tahla's ear.

The two miqo'te purred into each other, relishing the kiss, relishing the taste of one another while the murky-haired elezen tended the woman who he and C'jhimei shared. Slowly Tahla pulled back from the seeker, turning in place to take Maurelin's lips instead while her other lover instead lavished her nape. The white-haired woman breathed in Tahla's scent, gunpowder and ash still spicing it even a sun after that last desperate battle. Her hands wrapped around the keeper of the moon and slowly ventured from belly to breasts, softly caressing through Tahla's shirt while she deepened the kisses she pressed to nape and neck.

Maurelin meanwhile stroked at the dusky keeper's hair while he kissed her deep and passionately, moaning into her mouth. Tahla's hands clenched in his clothes when C'jhimei peeked around her, crumpling the elezen's shirt in tight fingers, trying to pull him even closer as though that were possible. They kissed a moment longer then the keeper turned back to tend the seeker once more, C'jhimei moaning appreciatively into a hard firm kiss while her hands clung to Tahla's back. Maurelin slipped his own around to take up the task of tending Tahla's breasts and the keeper began to play at C'jhimei's own, making her purr and moan even louder.

By the gods, they had not taken off a single piece of clothing between them and already she grew wet and hot.

“Mayhap we are still too _dressed_ ,” Maurelin purred into Tahla's ear as though reading her mind. The keeper nodded without leaving C'jhimei's lips, their tongues intertwined while they fondled one another and let the duskwight begin pulling at Tahla's shirt. The white cloth slipped up, laying bare deep brown skin for C'jhimei to run pale hands over, whining into her lover when a hand came to her tail and a thumb rubbed circles at its base. That ended far too soon as did their kiss, the women parting to let Maurelin take Tahla's shirt up her arms and over her head. For a moment C'jhimei admired the keeper's breasts, the dark nipples at their peaks already hardening, then they were covered by Maurelin's hands coming to cup them and the two miqo'te rejoined passionately.

Tahla moaned hard into C'jhimei's mouth, one hand back on the seeker's tail and rubbing that sensitive spot at the base, the other stroking through her hair. The seeker of the sun's eyes slid closed, lost in the feel of her lover and only the base of Maurelin's hands brushing her nipples as she leaned closer reminding her the elezen was there for a moment. It was disconcerting having him there, she might have grown more comfortable around the duskwight since the day he had walked in on her lapping at Tahla, but it was still strange to her to touch Tahla while he did as well.

But Tahla wanted them both, _needed_ them both, and C'jhimei was powerless before that call. Just as Maurelin was, she was sure.

“Jhimei,” Tahla panted in a break between kisses, hand eagerly stroking one of the seeker's ears. “Maurelin.” Her other hand groped behind her, seeking him, finding his side to caress. The duskwight grinned past her head, his red eyes meeting C'jhimei's orange a moment. She was surprised to find some unease there too, wondering if he felt the same as she did. But then if it were not for Tahla, she would know Maurelin only as a local legend, not as her lover's other lover. Her musings vanished at the feel of Tahla's hands slipping dress straps down her shoulders, and past the keeper Maurelin released her bare tits to begin undressing himself.

“Tahla...” the seeker whispered longingly, feeling the straps fall down her arms and her dress come loose. Before she could do a thing Tahla had the blue cloth in her hands, tugging it down so eagerly she almost feared it would rip before it passed pink band and panties to lay in a pool around her feet. In turn she put her hands to Tahla's waist, her thumbs brushing over the hem of her lover's leggings as Maurelin's shirt hit the floor with a soft thump. The duskwight stepped up to Tahla's back, the keeper's head turning to meet him in a kiss with his hands joining C'jhimei's. Together they worked the leggings down, trailing kisses down her front and back in tandem while they slowly crouched. Tahla moaned in joy at their combined touch, one hand on each of their heads, glancing back and forth to admire both of them with such longing that C'jhimei thought her heart might burst with love.

Leaving the keeper of the moon in only black panties, they both stood back to their full height with Tahla turning to give Maurelin more of her attention. Her tail rubbed against C'jhimei, its tip stroking over her bra while the seeker kissed and licked the other woman's neck and once more took her wonderful breasts in hand. Pebbled nipples rubbed on her palms when she squeezed, teasing out a moan from Tahla that she heard even with Maurelin's mouth roughly pressed to the keeper's. Emboldened she continued, rolling one nipple between finger and thumb while her other hand kneaded, deepening the kisses she seared on Tahla's dark skin until she suckled marks into the flesh. On the other side of Tahla Maurelin's breeches slipped down his legs to leave him in naught but his own smalls, dark hands eagerly rubbing over scar-ravaged pale skin. Once again C'jhimei felt small beside them, not just because Maurelin was a good head taller if not more, but just the knowledge that the pair kissing beside her were nothing less than _Warriors of Light_ and she just an office worker, a paper pusher.

And yet Tahla still wanted her anyway?

Her hands had stilled and Tahla broke the kiss to glance back at her with amber eyes, turning her whole body after a moment to rest hands on the seeker's shoulders. “If you want to stop, Jhimei-”

“No!” she insisted, shaking her head. “Pray forgive me.” Maurelin's eyes were on her too, nowhere near as passionate as Tahla's, but there was still concern there. That fact calmed her nerves a little and she leaned closer to kiss Tahla once again, just once. “Let us continue,” she smiled.

Tahla took a moment to be certain then turned back to Maurelin with a smile, the three returning to where they had left off. C'jhmei stood on tiptoes to bury warm kisses in Tahla's hair, drowning in the scent of her while she worked up an ear to suckle on its point. Tahla whimpered beneath her, Maurelin casting her an approving glance while his mouth left Tahla's to descend her front. C'jhimei brought her tail to Tahla's thigh, stroking the fur across nut brown skin while Maurelin hungrily kissed and nipped at the hollow of the keeper's throat. Overwhelmed by their attention Tahla moaned and cried, pleading for more with both of their names in quick succession. Passionate love burning in their veins they obliged, Maurelin kissing lower to tend her breasts with his savage mouth, C'jhimei falling back on her soles to take up her neck while she snaked a hand down and over the keeper's mound.

“Oh, Maurelin, Jhimei, please more...” Tahla whined, her head falling to rest on C'jhimei's shoulder. The seeker smiled, kissing around to her cheek. From the corner of her eye she saw Maurelin hard at work on the keeper of the moon's bust, nipping and kissing with such zeal that surely it hurt a little, yet Tahla gasped and groaned in nothing but absolute pleasure. Her panties lay sodden already beneath C'jhimei's fingers as they stroked over her labia, one digit pressing in to brush on the petals beneath and make the iron-furred miqo'te whimper. C'jhmei's sex pulsed at the sound, longing for Tahla's touch, _needing_ fingers and tongue inside her. With her blood burning she kissed harder, her lover's head tipping around to let their lips brush. Losing herself in the kiss she pulled her hand back then slipped into Tahla's smallclothes, feeling the keeper's nectar stain it as fingers began to chart the familiar folds. Maurelin stopped a moment to glance with those red eyes, a smirk of approval on his lips at her work before he returned to his own appointed task.

With both of them on her Tahla was coming undone, cheeks flushed, eyes lidded and her breath coming in lusty pants. “Oh, by Menphina,” she wailed, one of C'jhimei's fingers on her clit deepening her purr. “Let me tend you before you finish me off.” Though she longed to make Tahla orgasm on her fingers the seeker obeyed, drawing the damp hand out of Tahla's panties while Maurelin retreated from her chest with a little grin. They stood with Tahla between them a moment before she stepped to the bed's edge and knelt, the two turning with her. Her hand caught C'jhimei's wrist, pulling the stained hand to her mouth and letting the keeper lap her own juices from the pale skin, one of Maurelin's hands receiving the same treatment. When C'jhimei cast a glance the duskwight's way she found him tall and proud, cock standing at attention beneath his smalls as Tahla finished tending their hands and quickly brought her own to tug at his briefs and C'jhimei's panties. The clothes slipped away with their eager help, his shaft springing up hard, her sex wet and glistening when fingers spread her folds for Tahla's inspection. Her warm breath made them both shiver even before she began her tending, using her hands alone a little while to stroke him and finger her.

“Oh, Tahla,” the seeker of the sun whimpered, a scrape of clenched fingers tearing a cry from her mouth. Maurelin growled and hissed as Tahla lavished his cock, her mouth engulfing the tip while her hand stroked the shaft, holding him a moment before her head moved over to taste the other woman. Back and forth she moved, tending one of them a little while then seeing to the other. Longing to be bare C'jhimei worked at her breast band and tugged it over her head, tossing it carelessly aside while she watched Tahla stare appreciatively at her pert chest. The keeper leaned up from her crouch to sample a nipple between her lips before moving back to Maurelin's member, another glance at the duskwight finding him looking at her for the briefest moment before returning to the kneeling miqo'te.

They both trembled and rocked their hips into her touch before long, the atmosphere and their love for her quickening their arousal to the point C'jhimei felt they would climax stood before her. She clearly sensed it too, stopping before they could reach their peak to grin at them both coyly. Their eyes fixed on her, Tahla stood only to tumble back onto the bed and crawl so her head lay on a pillow.

“Do you like the view?” she teased, fingers stretching her panties at the hem. C'jhimei groaned at the teasing, seeing the keeper's slit pressed against the damp cloth and finding her own unbearably heated by the sight. Maurelin too nodded furiously, a hand at his cock while Tahla chuckled.

“Stop teasing us, vixen,” the duskwight complained, casting a tentative glance at C'jhimei. She struggled not to start fingering herself, overcome with want yet wanting to please Tahla first.

“Tahla, please,” the seeker whimpered.

Tahla smiled and beckoned them with a hand. “I want you both,” she purred. The words were spurs in them, the two all but pouncing at her. As one they took her panties and tore them down her legs, losing them somewhere in the room in their fervor to tend her. Each took a breast for themselves, C'jhimei gentle and tender, Maurelin rough and savage, but both full of love as they worshiped her glorious body. Beneath their touch she cried out their names and moaned, tongues on her skin making her eyes close hard.

“Maurelin, please, in me,” Tahla panted, feeling their eager fingers brush each other as they rubbed in her folds. “Oh, Jhimei, let me taste you-” She was a conductor and they her orchestra, Maurelin descending, C'jhimei ascending. The former spread the keeper's legs, aiming his throbbing cock to take her, groaning when her sodden sex brushed against his aching need. The seeker meanwhile straddled Tahla's face and groaned her name at the touch of tongue on petals, hands on the wall and her head cast over her shoulder to watch Maurelin enter their lover. His hips touched Tahla's, the feel of him inside her making her cry into C'jhimei's quim before eagerly nibbling at the seeker's labia. Three voices became one, Maurelin's groans and grunts as he began to rut furiously, Tahla's screams of ecstasy when he bottomed out in her, and C'jhimei's own screams pooling in her ears in a symphony of sex. She knew not how long it lasted, she never _wanted_ it to end, just to continue riding the other miqo'te's face while the duskwight made furious, aggressive love to the keeper behind her.

Once more her eyes and the duskwight's met, his strained and glazed from his exertions, hers surely ablaze with passion and pleasure. Common understanding passed between them, their feelings toward each other would never pass beyond friendship at best, but in their love for Tahla they were utterly united. C'jhimei's anxiety finally melted away in that common ground, leaving her to grin at the elezen and he to grin back before both returned to their tasks. Under her Tahla screamed their names deep into her, tongue and lips desperately tasting the seeker's drenched folds as though she had just emerged from an utterly dry desert. Orange eyes lidded as C'jhimei screamed, head as far back as she could tip it and hands trembling against the wall in her passionate throes.

It took a moment for her to hear Tahla speak. “Oh, by the gods... Jhimei, make love to me-” A wordless cry interrupted her as Maurelin took her to the hilt again, the force of his thrust making the keeper tremble beneath where C'jhimei sat. “Let me suck you, Maurelin!” Even muffled by C'jhimei's sex, she cried loud enough for him to hear, though he thrust a few more times in passionate instinct before he at least slipped out of her. Panting furiously the duskwight circled around with C'jhimei so that the seeker was between Tahla's glistening thighs and the duskwight knelt beside her head, nectar-stained lips taking his throbbing cock between them. Maurelin groaned out loud, looking at C'jhimei as though to spur her on as she stared idle a moment. Watching Tahla suck him made her ache with desire, the way her lips wrapped around him, eyes hooded and one hand fondling her breast, it was all too much.

Maddened by raw need the seeker hurried into position, hooking a leg over Tahla's thigh to let her bring their apexes together. Sexes touched and rubbed, hips grinding in search of mutual pleasure, and soon Tahla wailed around Maurelin's shaft and C'jhimei cried her lover's name without anything held back. She could not take her eyes off of Tahla's face, even Maurelin's own groans and cries tugging her gaze for the smallest instant before she snapped back to watch the keeper's chest heave and her mouth shudder around the shaft that now rutted into her face. Maurelin looked her way occasionally but he too was fixated on Tahla, one of his hands tending the breast she neglected and the other at her ears, stroking, pinching.

They made love to her so differently, yet Tahla loved them both so much and it made C'jhimei gladder than anything. With Tahla's climax her sole aim she continued to grind her sex against the keeper's, clutching dusky hips to build the friction until they both screamed at a touch of clit on clit. Overcome by both her lovers tending her at once it was impossible for Tahla to last, her skin bathed in sweat, her cheeks burning, and with a final stroke of Maurelin's cock she was forced to let it go. Gasping for breath she found her climax at another touch of flower to flower.

“Oh Menphina, Maurelin, Jhimei-!” Whatever else she had to say was lost, a primal scream of purest pleasure singing from her stained lips to ring in their ears. Both grinning the seeker and duskwight tended her through it, Maurelin stroking her hair, C'jhimei brushing her thumbs over the keeper's hips while she continued to rut. She shook between them, mewling and whining with eyes clenched closed and mouth agape. Her juices splashed into the white-haired woman's sex and over her thighs, their nectar flowing together into one heady mix.

“I love you,” she and Maurelin said to the woman between them in tandem, orange and red eyes meeting with a mutual smile. Together they watched and tended her until she lay still, her breasts rising and falling heavily with each pant for breath. Still overcome she lay in a stupor, recovering from the intensity of her climax while her lovers were left unfinished. C'jhimei could have simply continued to rut until she too found her orgasm, but much as she ached to finish she did not wish to use Tahla so, pulling back a few ilms. Maurelin too seemed uncertain for a moment, his cock slick from her sex and mouth both, throbbing red and hard still. An awkward glance passed between them, then he slowly reached down to stroke himself.

As though he had granted permission, she reached to her sex, rubbing two fingers in circles over her petals with eyes fixed on Tahla's face. She swelled with love and pride, sure the night was not yet over, surely there would be more once Tahla had her wind back. Maurelin too looked at the keeper with love in his eyes and for the first time C'jhimei was sure she saw the very heart of him, beneath his oft-noted deadpan and the reputation for mighty rage. If she had ever doubted that he genuinely did _adore_ Tahla, that doubt died at the sight of his longing eyes.

Awkward silence reigned a while as they both masturbated, left so behind that their own climaxes seemed a far away goal, eyes tentatively finding one another. It was C'jhimei who finally spoke, surprised the duskwight had not come forward first.

“Would you like help?” she ventured bashfully, head bowing a little when his eyes shot to her.

“Tis good that you asked,” he chuckled, his mirth bringing her eyes back up. “I had the same thought but I was much too scared to ask.” The seeker found herself unsure whether he was joking or not, but he crawled over to her until they were ilms apart. Hesitantly she reached for his hard shaft, taking it in inexperienced fingers. Sex was nothing new to her, but he was the first man she had ever touched so and it was only the atmosphere that made her offer it to him. Maurelin reached for her slit slowly, his eyes meeting hers to seek permission that she granted with a nod and a little smile.

How _different_ his fingers were from Tahla's when they slid into her, rough and thick and calloused. One slid into her folds at first, a second joining it once he gauged her, and C'jhimei whined at the brush of them on her walls. “Maurelin...”

“Thank you,” he breathed as her fingers stroked him slowly, trying to find her rhythm on a tool she had never been interested to learn the use of. “For being here. For all that you do for Tahla.”

A low laugh escaped her to become a whine at the curl of his fingers. “You, a _Warrior of Light_ , would thank _me_? The whole realm sings your praises, Maurelin.” She tightened her grip and he groaned.

“Damn the realm,” he hissed, eyes hooding a moment as she quickened her pace. He in turn fingered her faster and she cried out, Tahla's name leaving her lips but if anything he seemed pleased by that. “You offer me far more than the realm ever could.”

“My hand on your cock?” she teased, a little of Tahla bleeding into her to make her smirk.

Maurelin gave a strained laugh, both of their hips rocking with their climaxes drawing close. “Tahla's happiness. Mayhap you fear I hated you, that I resented you...” He panted wordlessly, bucking into her hand, his thumb finding her clit to make her whimper. “But I hold you dear as the best of friends for how you love Tahla, C'jhimei.”

“And I you for loving and protecting her as you do,” the seeker whispered in turn. “Oh, Maurelin, I-”

He nodded wordlessly, only moans leaving them both as they reached the edge. They hung there a moment, orange eyes on red, both then glancing to where Tahla lay with amber eyes on them. A grin turned her lips as she lay peacefully.

They looked at each other again to share smiles of pleasure, love and passion in even measure, orgasms taking them together. Maurelin's seed fell in ropes to splash on her fingers, the bedding and her already slick thighs, staining the hand that worked her quim as well, and she in turn coated his fingers in her slick. They screamed and cried in tandem as they released, raw pleasure burning through their veins like unbound levin. Shivering in each others' grip they collapsed atop the sheets and lay panting breathless, still a moment with their eyes locked on each other.

Once they had their wind they crawled back up the bed to lay either side of Tahla, the keeper kissing them both before she rose to lap seed and nectar from their bodies. Still burning with love they lay a while and listened to the sounds of fireworks, cheering and triumph, taking a moment to bathe in their passion and joy. C'jhimei met both their eyes as she looked at them, warm at Tahla's side when the keeper lay between them once more. Both of them smiled at her, her lover and her friend, Warriors of Light both, beautiful in their victory.

She might never share in such victory, C'jhimei thought. But she would share Tahla with Maurelin like the moon shared by the sun and the night sky, oft exclusive but sometimes when the stars lay right they would all join together in the heavens. And ever would she pray for them both to come home from their struggles, to Limsa, to _her_.


	23. In Manifold Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tentacles  
> 5.3 spoilers, also some violence and mention of blood

Her radiant sword ripped through the monster's scaly hide, ichor spilling from the wound as the beast thrashed. Three reptilian heads screamed as one, the fact of their death slowly catching up to them and causing them to droop to the ground while the monster's serpentine body slumped motionless on rock slick with water and blood alike. She stood drenched in the stuff, her equally radiant armor and shield tarnished to the point that they were near beyond saving. Even her skin stank of the monstrosity's insides and the filthy bile it had hacked at her aplenty.

But victory was hers. Those nearby were safe, as was Amaurot. Her companions cheered as Azem dismissed blade, plate and shield, solid light dissolving into motes to let more blood splatter at her feet. She examined her spoiled robes woefully, even if she could conjure a new set with a snap of her fingers, it still seemed a waste of good clothes. Sighing she made her way off the plateau, splashing through shallow water back to dry land with her allies following. They kept a distance, after all, she likely reeked of the creature's guts with all the hacking she had done to convince it to give up.

Waves washed the shoreline as they walked, Azem's robes heavy on her skin and clinging uncomfortably to her. She heaved a sigh, but continued regardless until the village came into view. Giant shells stood along the shore, sunk into the sand enough to serve as shelters before a cave that burrowed into the cliff face. The tros villagers stood eagerly awaiting her return, an odd bunch that might have frightened her had she not seen many other strange and wonderful things on her journeys across the star. Tall and gaunt with rubbery blue flesh, they stared at her with fish-like eyes over black beaks, each stood on a pair of webbed feet. Each one had their bodies ringed by eight tentacles reaching to their knees, disconcerting to most but _intriguing_ to Azem. How had they evolved so? She might have thought them a stray work of creation magic were it not for such things being soulless, and besides while Hythlodaeus was happy to slip her whatever concept she asked for, his predecessors had doubtless been far less open in their stewardship.

“Wandering one,” one gurgled. “Not long ago the beast's wails grew silent at last, and now you return to us caked in gore.”

Azem chuckled. “You put it lightly, menial one.” An oddity of tros society. No personal names, only a function to describe them. Though, her own “name” was such a thing, she reflected. She had gone by Azem so long that her original name was like an heirloom gathering dust in safekeeping, treasured certainly but rarely if ever shown. And it was Azem the world knew, the name she gave to every village saved, for every monster slain or disaster averted. “But yes. We are victorious and the beast shall trouble you no longer.”

The tros gurgled among themselves in their own tongue a moment, then looked back to her. A tentacle beckoned. “Overseeing one will wish to honor you. Come, come.” Slowly the party followed after the menial who chose to lead them into the cave. Her companions were an eclectic bunch of all shapes and sizes, ones who had chosen to leave their homes and cast their lot in with her for the sake of the star, or because they had no homes to return to.

Mighty as she was, renowned as she was, Azem could not always save everyone.

Through damp tunnels they descended, the walls running with water and the air stinking of salt water. More tros passed, menial ones going about their duties, guardian ones wielding their tridents saluting as Azem and her companions passed, seeing ones with their crystals. Soon enough they descended into a great cavern with water pooling all around, a path of rock winding to where the overseeing one sat. Larger than any of the other tros, he bore no badge of office bar that size, sat atop a rock regarding proceedings with his deep abyssal gaze. At the sight of Azem he sat up taller.

The menial one knelt. “Azem returns, overseeing one! The monster lies slain and we are saved!”

Azem stepped forward at the overseeing one's beckoning tentacle. “I can scarce believe that after many a moon, the wanderer of Amaurot has slain our great enemy in less than a sun,” the elder tros declared. “Yet you lie thick with the beast's foul blood and fair reek of it. I could never mistake such a scent.” Azem wondered briefly how the overseeing one could _smell_ at all, but blunt as she might be, she had _some_ tact regardless of what Emet-Selch believed.

“I am merely glad to do my part for the star,” she said, head bowing to cover her golden eyes behind her black mask. “My companions and I could not well leave the beast to continue threatening your hearth, home and lives.”

The tros nodded as the menial one scampered away, driven by a waved tentacle. “Quite, quite, but of course such heroism deserves recompense-”

Azem shook her head and smiled. “I thank you kindly, but your people have little enough, overseeing one. And besides, the knowledge that a threat to the star is struck down is reward enough.” One of her companions spoke behind her and Azem smiled. “Although, as you do say, I lie thick with blood and while I might replace my robes, I would kindly ask if you have a place I might bathe myself?”

The elder's tentacles rose to press together like tented fingers, contemplating a moment. “There is a wellspring of heated water within our caves, heroic Azem. By all means take leave to use it to wash your battle-fouled body.” Azem caught a glint in his eyes as his tentacles fell once more. “Your companions are welcome to join should they wish.”

“We will be fine,” one smiled. “ _Enjoy yourself_ , Azem.” Azem laughed at him.

“Do try to find me if you stumble across any threats to the star in the half bell or so I should be gone,” the Wanderer teased, following the overseeing one as he stepped down from his seat to lead her.

“Oh, we shall, though whether we can rouse you is another matter,” a staff-wielding mage laughed, trailing after the other six as they headed back the way they had come. Azem trailed over a water-strewn path, footsteps splashing as the elder tros led her deeper into the rock. The air grew more humid as they descended, hot enough that Azem began to grow a little uncomfortable in her blood-weighted robes.

“Surely you could have sent a menial one to guide me, or given me directions and let me find my way alone?” she queried, an impish grin on her lips.

The overseeing one glanced back with those deep eyes. “Oh, certainly, but even in our quiet corner of the star we hear tell of Azem and her... _revelries_ in the wake of victory. Forgive me if I have misunderstood your request.”

Azem chuckled. “Mayhap we might cut two knots with a single blade.”

They emerged into a dark cavern lit by phosphorescence alone, miraculously light enough that Azem could make out the length and height of it. A pool of water lay before her and when she knelt down it was indeed warm to her touch, water dripping from her hand as she rose once more. She shot the overseeing one a grin, untying her robes and shrugging them off. She stood in shorts and a band around her chest alone, both the same somber black, then swiftly she dispensed with them and her mask to stand shamelessly nude before him.

His eyes wandered across her, surprisingly nothing much stirring in their depths. Most would fall into a stupor or be gripped by fiery lust at the sight of Azem laid bare before them, white flesh on show, silvery white hair falling about her shoulders, her muscular body oft declared to be perfection incarnate. She would smile at that, flattered by the praise yet embarrassed by such exaggeration. To have the overseeing one merely look at her without falling into hysterics was a refreshing experience.

A tentacle came up to beckon at the water. “Pray enter and relax, heroic Azem.”

“By all means,” the Wanderer smiled, padding over damp rock to slip beneath the surface. Immediately warmth erased cold, bathing her body up to her neck while she searched for a purchase and found a relatively flat rock on which to sit. The overseeing one swiftly joined her, sat close while Azem's hands washed lingering blood from her body. The way the hot spring bubbled made her certain that was some flow of fresh water so she did not worry about contaminating it.

Besides, any such thoughts quickly faded as the first tentacle brushed on her skin. The tros reached for her with all eight limbs, two seeking her sizable bust and caressing a breast each. Two more fell to her hips, one stroked at her face and the remaining three played across neck, belly and thighs. At first she found the sensation of them odd, rubbery and close to unpleasant, but if she had a soft stomach then Azem would not have been chosen for her duty. Excitement soon overwhelmed what little discomfort she felt, for if there was one pleasure she did indulge behind the Convocation's back it was experimental, glorious sex. How she _loved_ life, longed to protect it but also to delve its depths and experience all it had to offer beyond Amaurot's sterile gray.

“Is this pleasurable, oh wanderer?” the overseeing one asked, tone still level as his tentacles rubbed at her body.

Azem sighed deeply. “Oh, very much, but I hope you would go further.” She winked at the tros and was rewarded by his limbs growing more daring. The one teasing at the top of her thighs found her slit and slid between her folds, stroking up and down as its twin at her behind pressed between her cheeks. The two at her chest took different approaches, one furling around a breast while the other teased across her hardening nipple. The rest continued their stroking with one daring toward her mouth, Azem kissing its tip then slowly letting the tros slip it between her lips.

“By the gods,” he gasped. Azem hummed as she sucked on the tentacle in her mouth, its taste fishy and unpleasant, but she relished the feel of his limbs all over her. She rose from her seat to let the one rubbing at her rump probe her hole, eager to take as many as she could, whining with overwhelming pleasure as the tros convulsed. Surely he had never been treated so, never had such a passionate soul at his whim, and she knew she had him in her grasp when she found sex and rear penetrated at once.

Azem cried out into her fleshy gag, feeling him push harder into her holes while the other five limbs ravished her without cease. Her breasts ached from tight kneading and hard caresses, her hair in a mess from another stroking her and his remaining two playing around her damp thighs. He was not strong enough to lift her from the ground so Azem crouched in the water, letting him ravage her without mercy. She had let multiple men have her on occasion, worked all their shafts until they bathed her in seed and later received Emet-Selch's lecture about the rumors of her indecency with a smirk beneath her lips, but to have just one man overwhelm her was exciting and new.

She groaned loud as the tentacle in her mouth brushed the back of her throat, all but fucking her face as its brethren did her other holes. She was sure she would be left sore by his merciless treatment, but that thought only exhilarated the warrior, driving her to buck her hips and feel the two shafts inside her almost touch. If the tros wanted her to touch him in turn he did not show it, only bringing his two spare tentacles to her grasping hands to let her massage them in her throes, her pants around the one in her mouth joined by his wheezes.

“Oh wandering one,” the overseeing one groaned. “You are divine to be so full of my limbs and yet seek more eagerly.”

Azem bobbed her head and a low gasp poured from his beak. His pace intensified, rough and hard to the point that she found herself thankful for her sheer endurance if nothing else. She let herself be a toy in his grasp, mouth sucking, ass and sex eagerly accepting the shafts within them, breasts aching from how roughly he groped. But even she had her limits, all too soon gasping for breath until he gave her a moment's respite from ruthlessly thrusting in and out of her mouth, then taking him down to her throat once again. Her core burned hot and fierce, stoked into a frenzy by the levin each thrust made surge through her nerves and the feeling of all her holes being stuffed by thick flesh.

The hero's eyes lidded with a deep groan, approaching her peak so quickly that she could barely gasp around the tentacle before it was upon her. The overseeing one's limbs milked her for all she had, still thrusting even while Azem screamed into the rough rubbery gag and drowned the appendage in her sex with her cum. Her body thrashed against him, her hands falling limp and the tentacles she had caressed instead wrapping around her waist to keep her from toppling over. He released her mouth, letting her wail in ecstasy until the very rock rang with her orgasmic cries, continuing to work her other holes right until she slumped boneless in his grip.

Azem panted with her face an ilm from the water, golden eyes falling open as she coughed. That fishy taste lingered in her throat and she was sure she would need something to wash it away, but as she fell still she knew only lingering levinbolts of pleasure and the deep satisfaction of being used thoroughly. Slowly his limbs left her to wash her juices away in the water, pulling free of her holes to leave Azem feeling suddenly very empty after having been stuffed full so vigorously.

“Did I please you well, wandering one?” the tros asked, only a little strain in his tone betraying his own arousal.

Azem nodded fiercely, sinking back to the rock with a belt of rubbery flesh still around her waist. She sighed as the warm water wrapped over her once more, soothing her aching breasts and holes. “Very well indeed, overseeing one,” she smiled at him.

The rubbery creature gave an odd sound that might have been laughter, might have been approval. “Your reputation is certainly well earned, heroic Azem.”

Azem laughed, sinking lower until the water was at her chin. “You speak as though you did something far more dignified than ravage my every hole at once.” Again the odd sound poured from his beak. “I wonder if I might please you in turn as thanks for your thoroughness,” she ventured coyly, looking his body up and down.

She was sure that were it possible for him, the trox would have grinned wide at that.


	24. To Taste True Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Food Play  
> Shadowbringers spoilers up through 5.3

The taste of humble bread lingered on Leofric's tongue long after he ate his lunch and returned to tending the fields, fresh blisters on his hands stinging with every strike of the hoe. His back ached and his hands hurt, more weight falling off him by the sun as he toiled under sun and rain alike. A small part of him wished he were back in Lord Vauthry's Eulmore, supping the finest foods, drinking the finest wines, whiling his days away in a haze of pleasure.

The rest of him quickly rebelled against that notion. The true cost of that Eulmore came to the front of his mind to banish any lingering want for it.

The hume planted the hoe a moment, leaning against it and panting. A white-sleeved arm wiped the sweat from his brow and came away dirty, his plain brown breeches caked in dirt as were his boots. Even several moons into his new life, he still found himself falling short, easily outdone by those who had toiled to feed him, who initially had looked at him with scorn when he had presented himself as a laborer. A plump, soft product of a Eulmore that would never want for bliss.

But he had toiled sun after sun and earned their respect, grudging as it still was. His bed was rough and full of straw, his food modest and meager, the hours long and hard, but Leofric endured it all without complaint. It wasn't the other farmers he worked for, whether they were impressed by him or not he didn't care. He toiled for Ruina to build a new life, a life they _earned_ rather than being handed by the suffering of others. He worked for the Eulmore the mayor spoke of, where all contributed to its greatness rather than the poor masses breaking their backs for a rich few.

He worked for the future the Warrior of Darkness had carved a path toward with her blade. That the Warrior of Light had inspired Ruina to fight for with his impassioned speech.

The hume gazed across the fields of Kholusia, birds soaring overhead, the sun beating down from a blue sky with only a few bands of cloud staining it. When he looked to the south, Eulmore rose from the ocean to stand proud against the sky, white stone and purple balloons. But the sight of it only stirred regret and pain, so he turned back to farmland and trees instead. Other farmers labored hard to tend their crops and fend off the beasts that sought seed and stem to sate their hunger. His belly rumbled at the thought and Leofric smiled thinly, brushing a hand through black hair cut short after an infestation of nits. Aware he was slacking, he dragged the hoe from the soil and set about his digging, a blister popping on the next stroke and making him hiss in pain.

You have suffered lightly, he reminded himself. When Vauthry had seized his mind and made him fight, the Warrior of Darkness had struck with the flat of her blade rather than the edge to leave him unconscious, not dead. He had a chance to atone for the evil he had complacently participated in for all his life.

Bea had had no such chance. The thought came unbidden to still his stinging hand, bile burning at his throat. How had he written off the mystel's disappearance so easily? Even moons after Vauthry's fall, he still had no answer for that terrible question. Bea-Tatch had simply vanished one day, no word, no trace of him left, and _somehow_ they had all carried on without him until the day the Warrior of Darkness stormed Eulmore.

The day the terrible truths bubbled to the surface.

Leofric once more leaned on the hoe, nightmares rising in his waking bells. Bea writhing, screaming, _twisting_ and _transforming_ -

Furiously he shook his head, gripped the hoe and stabbed the ground again and again. Tears burned at his eyes, guilt and shame and pain all boiling away as he raked the furrows in which he would plant more seeds. Another step toward atonement. Another way to redeem himself. He wiped a sleeve over his face, continuing his work. Just a few more rows, then to plant and then he might rest. The hume checked the sun in the sky to find it falling toward the sea. Surely Ruina would be home soon as well. He took a deep draught from his waterskin then continued.

As he toiled his thoughts turned to his other friends from those bygone days. Juddia had gone to the Crystarium as far as he knew, too disgusted and ashamed to play any part in Eulmore's future no matter what form it took. Franden had chosen to remain in the city and offer the mayor his help, making pronouncements in Chai-Nuzz's name as his own form of penance. Alane had initially wallowed deep in guilt and grief before the Warrior of Light and a starshower had stirred an adventurous spirit in her, sending her wherever the wind took her with sword in hand.

And he and Ruina both had chosen to spend their days among the people of Kholusia, toiling as farmhand and guard respectively to earn their keep.

He dug the final furrow and leaned the hoe against a creaking fence, finding his bag of seeds where it lay beside the tilled soil. Carefully he planted them, hands caked in dirt when he tucked them under the soil and prayed to whatever gods were listening that they would grow strong and ripe. A field of wheat that would rise in eight moons to feed Eulmore and Kholusia both, mayhap some would even be traded to the Crystarium, Amh Araeng and the Greatwood for other precious supplies. A little contribution to the Eulmore they all strove to build.

The sun hung almost touching the distant sea by the time he had planted the last and leaned back on the fence to admire his work. Leofric glanced down the road that led to Wright, concern rising. Where was she, he wondered. Familiar faces passed, fellow laborers who offered him curt greetings or nods at the sight of the sown field. One passed right behind him, a galdjent woman in a faded blue dress, her basket laden with several loaves. The scent of freshly baked bread flooded his nose and Leofric's eyes widened in pain, his bile rising bitter as the memories. The meol he had scoffed down sun after sun, so _delicious_ , so _wonderful_.

Now that he knew where the miraculous stuff had sprung from, the merest reminder was enough to make him gag and retch.

A hand found his shoulder as he struggled to keep his lunch down and he looked back to find Ruina leaning through the fence. The silver-haired viis caressed him softly, a soft smile on her face, her toughened hands a comfort as she squeezed between the bars and posts. Her black trousers bore the road's dust, a battered breastplate worn over a simple hempen shirt with an axe sheathed across her back. Once shy and meek teal eyes burned with new courage, affection pouring into her gaze as she held him tight.

“I am here,” she murmured soothingly, stroking at his back until the retches subsided. His eyes watered from his stinging throat, a cough wracking him before Ruina helped him to shakily stand. “Your work is finished?”

Leofric nodded, another cough passing. “Y-yes. All sown.”

She smiled and brushed her lips to his cheek, holding up the hempen satchel in her other hand. “Forgive me for being late, but the captain handed out our wages and I wanted to bring home something for us.” Leofric reached for the hoe as they went.

The hume smiled, brushing the tears from his eyes while they walked around the field's edge toward the gate. “I am just glad to see you home, my heart.”

Ruina kissed him again. “It has been a long day for us both, and I would take rest with you, my love.” Arms around one another they padded up a dusty track to the main body of the farm, passing other workers on the way. Their home was as humble as everything about their new lives, a segment of an old barn turned into lodgings for those who had come from Eulmore to toil for the future, but it was _theirs_. The sun slipped below the horizon ilm by ilm behind them as they returned to the hoe to the tool shed then made for their sanctuary. The rooms were not much, the furniture old and creaking, the floor perpetually dusty with the remnants of old hay. A little round table sat against one crude wall, two battered chairs placed by it. Cupboards hung on the opposite wall for their food, scant cutlery and crockery. If they wished to cook it had to be done outside with no fireplace within, and blankets and each other were their only barriers against the cold.

Harsh and humble, but far more real than the dream-like paradise they had had before.

Ruina shed her breastplate and axe while he unpacked the satchel, finding a few thin cuts of meat, bread baked long enough ago that it no longer smelled like meol, a little cheese, and a small jar that he held to the light incredulously.

“Honey?”

Ruina chuckled warmly. “They had a fresh delivery from the Crystarium, and I thought you might like a treat after your toil.”

Leofric hummed appreciatively as he found a knife to slice the bread onto their plates. “You are too kind, Ruina.”

The viis wrapped her arms around him from behind, lips brushing on his neck. “I hoped we might put on a dessert after our evening meal,” she purred, voice low and sultry.

“Would you now?” he breathed, desperately keeping his focus on the knife lest he take a fingertip while distracted. “May we speak of that once our meal is ready, Ruina? All your plans will go to waste if we must head into Wright to have my hand healed from a wayward cut.” She released him with a smile, taking another knife to portion out the meat and cheese between them. She smelled of sweat and toil and he was sure he the same, but somehow he found that sweeter than any of the oils and perfumes they had worn in the old days. Rather than the braids she had once worn her hair was cut short for the rigors of combat, but to his surprise he had found he liked the boyish look for her.

The couple took to the table, Ruina mischievously setting the jar of honey between their plates with plain mugs of water to wash down their food. They watched one another eat and drink, playfully stealing pieces from each others' meals with giggles that made his heart flutter and burn for her. The viis stared with brilliant eyes, alive and strong, his very own Warrior of Light and he could not have loved her more if he had tried. If the Warrior of Darkness's coming had forced him to grow up and face reality, then he was at least glad that Ruina had been there to see him through it and he for her in turn. Mayhap they could never have done it without each other.

Empty plates lay a moment, knives and forks left haphazard atop them while Ruina took the jar of honey and rolled it between her fingers with a wide smile. Her light blue eyes met his dark, levin in the air as they drank one another in. Slowly they took one another in a kiss, savoring scent and taste both as their legs skirted around the table to catch up with their faces. Leofric held her close, hands tracing newly toned muscle as hers did, the new callouses in their hands rubbing at sunburned skin.

There was no need to ask what course they were headed on, for they both knew it well. First she pulled his shirt up his body and off his arms, then he did the same for her, warm kisses blazing on the newly bared skin as they admired one another. His tanned, hairy chest pressed on hers, a plain brown band wrapped around her breasts still while they kissed a little longer. Ruina set the jar down on the table and worked to undo the lid without breaking their chain of deepening kisses, the hume's hands at her hips as he eagerly savored his lover.

The lid came loose and a finger dipped in the honey as Ruina drew back, smearing it over her lips with a grin. Hungry for food and her both he lunged the instant the finger fell, tongue wiping her mouth then meeting hers to share the taste between them. She whined into his kiss, already undoing her trousers. He scrambled to unlace his breeches to keep the pace, the honey's tang combining with her scent to create something intoxicating.

“Ruina,” he breathed hot in the gap where they stepped out of their bottoms, left in smallclothes alone. The viis snatched the honey from the table with one hand and tugged him along with the other, passing from kitchen into their bedroom. Shutters were slapped closed before Ruina dragged him onto the cramped bed, abandoning the jar on the nightstand so that both her hands could be laid on him. Leofric groaned as she wrapped her thighs around him, pressing their hips tight together to grind close with hands hard on his back. The hume worked her band down to lay her pert bosom bare, groping for the honey over her. He found it and coated a finger in gold, smearing over nipple and areola both while she mewled at the touch.

“You taste so sweet, my heart,” Ruina breathed, kissing at his hair while his mouth descended to her stained tit. He licked at her languidly, savoring every taste, relishing the way her breath hitched when he scraped across her hardening nipple. She seized him as he drew back from a lick to slam their mouths together, a whimper of need making him throb with desire, her tongue furiously lapping at his own to sample more honey.

“I could feast on you for suns, Ruina,” Leofric sighed once she released him, both taking a moment to pant away. She smiled at that, brushing her lips to his jaw a moment while a hand rubbed on his bulge.

“And I you, Leofric,” she purred. His hips rocked at her touch, fingers curling to wrap on his member and stroke slowly. “I would taste you more, love.” Leofric reached over her for the honey, scooping more from the pot and smearing it on his own nipple, sighing at how cool it felt on the sensitive bud. As soon as he was done Ruina lapped his finger clean then turned to his chest, tongue brushing over him while her hand pulled him out of his smalls. The hume's eyes turned hooded, groans of raw pleasure scraping from his throat at her touch.

“Blessed white...” He managed a glance to find her eyes at half mast, sultry and eager as they stared at his doubtless enraptured face. “Ruina, fuck-” Her lips took his nipple between them, suckling, pebbling him to a peak while he bucked into her rough hand. Her thumb rubbed a circle on his cock's tip, then another until he whined against her hair.

“Do you want more of me, my heart?” the viis breathed on his throat, kissing up to his jaw.

“So much,” Leofric groaned, reaching for her panties to slip his fingers beneath. She whimpered when he slid into her folds, rubbing through her petals and over her clit. Ruina reached in turn, two fingers returning coated in honey and descending to his hard cock. “Ruina, oh!” The feel of it on him made him throb and writhe, red flesh soon coated in a layer of gold. She moaned as he slipped his fingers deep into her before she shuffled down to make him let go, her honey-slick fingers pushing into his mouth while the viis licked at his member.

He tasted her fingers eagerly, groaning around them every time Ruina licked another bit of honey from his rock hard shaft. Slowly the viis sank lower and lower on him until her nose pressed into the coarse hair at his cock's base, holding a moment then drawing back. Eagerly she sucked him, the honey forgotten to let her relish the taste of him alone while Leofric continued to lick and suck on her fingers despite every last drop of honey being long gone. He whined and groaned at how she devoured him over and over, his smalls pulled down to his feet and off to leave him naked.

“Ruina, please,” he moaned, pulling away from her spit-slick fingers. “I want to taste you.” The viis released him and they switched positions, Ruina on her back with her ears brushing the wall behind her head, Leofric above her with his drenched cock desperate. It took all his will not to bury his shaft in her and make burning love to her until they were both spent when he slid off her panties to lay sodden folds bare, her cunt glistening in the dim light and a low whine leaving her throat when he rubbed a finger on her labia.

“Taste me, Leofric, please,” she begged as he scooped honey onto his fingers, eagerly lathering her sex with sticky gold until she wailed with her hands fists in the sheets. Unable to hold back he all but dived to sample her, tongue drinking deep of the intoxicating blend of her nectar with the honey, her screams of passion music to his ears. The bed was rough beneath his knees and a stray piece of straw poked at him, but he lost himself inside Ruina's sex, tongue delving into every crevice to find every last drop of honey. Her taste washed away everything else, his body ablaze with furious desire while he tasted. “Oh, wicked white, Leofric I need you!” Her hand caressed his short hair over and over, pressing him harder into her cunt while her legs stretched back to give him as much access as she possibly could. The hume sucked on the viis's clit once he was sure all the honey had been found, tearing more shrieks of pleasure from Ruina's mouth. Surely the whole farm heard their lovemaking but Leofric couldn't care less, all he wanted was her, all he yearned for was for her to come undone with him.

“Ruina,” he panted as he emerged like a diver from the ocean, crawling up her body to sear his mouth into hers. Eagerly she tasted her own sex off his lips, both so pent up and lustful that Leofric slid into her even while they furiously kissed and let their tongues dance. She moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his cock in her, groaning and whining with every thrust that slapped into her hips. When their lips parted she was panting, sweating with her eyes glazed. Even so she groped for the honey jar, smearing some more onto his lips only to kiss it off while they made love, then doing the same to her own mouth for him to descend and seek.

He could not last long, worked up to his peak by the games they played with the honey, and Leofric could see Ruina approaching her own orgasm swiftly as well. He fumbled for the jar, the pleasure-lost viis taking a moment to help him scoop out another load. This one went to Ruina's nipples and over her gorgeous, petite tits, the hume adjusting his position to let himself lap at them while he continued to fuck her. Their bed creaked ominously beneath them, but its protests were lost beneath a fresh wave of Ruina's cries.

“Oh, my love, blessed white _blessed white_ ,” she chanted in a frenzy, kisses hot in his hair while his mouth moved from breast to breast, cleaning her with fast desperate licks. “Leofric, oh! Gods!”

“Ruina!” he cried into her bosom. “Ruina, oh Ruina I, I-”

“Please Leofric-!” A scream of orgasmic joy deafened him as her walls clenched him tight as they could, his hot hungry kisses flowing up to her jaw and taking her mouth once more. The jar of honey fell forgotten so Ruina could dig her hands into his back, nails scraping on his skin in her throes. Leofric clung to her, burying himself into her spot with all his might while the viis shrieked his name again and again into his mouth.

“My heart, oh, Ruina!” She was so _tight_ , so _wet_ , so _hot_ around him and he could not last, spilling himself inside her as deep as he could with every thrust. His thrusts squelched in his own thick seed as the hume rutted away, instinct guiding him through a climax that made his vision purest white and his throat burn from crying out to her. One of her hands dragged up to stroke his hair, her panting broken by whimpers of his name every time he took her to his hilt once more.

Leofric kissed her over and over even once they both lay coming down from their highs, afterglow glazing their eyes when they stared into one another. They held one another tight atop the creaking bed, turning to lay side by side with his softening cock still inside her.

“Stay in me a while,” Ruina sighed softly against his lips. “And let me taste you until I drift to sleep, my heart.” Their lips brushed softly, parting just enough to let tongues savor once again.

“Did we finish the honey?” Leofric murmured, a hand rubbing on her leg as it stayed wrapped over him and the other soothingly petting her ear. The viis groped behind herself and retrieved the jar, finding it almost empty with a thin layer clinging to the bottom. “It seems a shame to waste it.”

Ruina chuckled breathlessly. “Then let us share it.” She scraped a finger around the jar until she had gathered all the honey up, placing the digit between them to let their lips meet around it. They lapped and suckled, clean finger slipping out to let them devour the last drops between them. Even once those disappeared down their throats they stayed locked in their kiss to let the honey-tinged taste of each other be seared onto their memories. Gently the hume stroked the viis and vice-versa, aching muscles relaxing beneath a lover's touch, Leofric slowly slipping out of her sex while she tugged the covers out from beneath them.

“It was good sweet honey,” he breathed into her, her taste in his mouth, her scent bathing him. “But I find you the sweeter taste by far, Ruina.”

The viis nuzzled him. “And all your toil only makes you more delicious by the day, Leofric.” Another brush of lips, the room swiftly darkening as night fell over the land in earnest. Even after moons of it returned by the Warrior of Darkness Leofric still marveled at something so incredible as the starry heavens, glimpsing just a sliver through a little crack between shutters and window frame.

He lay in her arms with his arms holding her tight, feeling her drift off to sleep, hearing her dreams bring his name from her lips. Mayhap they would never truly create enough _right_ to balance the _wrong_ they had partaken in during Vauthry's reign. But they were _trying_ , toiling to realize a new Eulmore, a new Norvrandt, even. And when he looked down at the silver-haired viis slumbering in his arms, he cared not how the straw in the bed scraped at his body, how the wind blew cold and keen through the walls. Nor how long and hard he worked each day tending the fields, how humble their meals were.

Leofric had Ruina and that was enough. To taste her on his lips as he joined her in sleep was to taste true bliss.


	25. Dark Deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Against a Wall  
> End of ARR/start of Heavensward and Dark Knight questline spoilers, also blood and violence.

The Brume choked with snow and cold, a cloud-bathed night leaving every shadow thick, but Gerlind was unafraid as she sat on chipped stairs. Her dark mail blended into the moonless night, only the fog of her breath betraying her presence. And she was not alone, Fray a step above her, his leg rested beside the Warrior of Light's shoulder. Gerlind glanced back at her mentor, finding only that elusive helmet that never came off whether in bitter cold or scorching heat.

“Strange you'd come sit down here in the cold with me when you have a manor and _Lord_ Haurchefant waiting for you up above,” Fray said with a teasing lilt, casting a finger skyward to point toward the Last Vigil.

Gerlind shrugged. Welcome as Haurchefant was to lay beside her, there were still things his cocoa and his arms around her could not remedy, the scorn and dismay of her fellow Warriors of Light chief among them. “I could not sleep.”

Fray stretched and shot her a look. “Sitting here freezing your arse won't help that, I promise you.”

The dark knight stood to stretch, joints popping. A cold gust tugged at her breeches and the cloth beneath her breastplate and gauntlets. “And besides, dark deeds are best done in the dark.”

Her mentor laughed, voice cold as the wind that clawed her face with icy talons. “And what _dark deeds_ were you looking to do?”

A scream rang through the streets and both heads snapped toward it. Gerlind grinned as they made toward it, black boots cracking the frost underfoot. They rushed past the corpse of a fallen wyvern, vaulting broken stonework to make haste. Gerlind's blade hissed free as they rounded a corner into an alley. An elezen woman lay bloodied in the snow, two men and a woman stood around her ripping at her dress with feral hands. No better than beasts, Gerlind thought cold as the night, scraping her sword across the stone in a stroke. A spark flashed where the point touched, the sound ringing from the walls to stop them all dead.

“Piss off,” the attacking woman snapped after a moment. “Even with that sword of yers, it's three to one, so unless you want to join this bitch you'd better forget you saw us.” Knives emerged, blades dark with no moon or stars to light them.

Gerlind's eyes hardened and she stepped forward, bringing the sword up.

“Show them no mercy,” Fray spoke, relish in his tone. Gerlind reached into the darkness, the pain. Nanamo clutching at her throat, gasping for breath, collapsing while she knelt helpless over the Sultana. The shadows coiled thick around her, a welcome fear in the trio's eyes when she stalked toward them. One of the men tried his luck at rushing her, knife ready to stab.

Her blade burned with darkness as it cleaved flesh, blood splashing her face while he wailed and fell. The dark knight stepped over him, red-drenched sword rising for the remaining two while their comrade bled in the snow. Teledji Adeledji fell in two pieces before her eyes, blood pooling beside each, then Raubahn's arm crashed on a table leaking red and Ilberd sneered.

The hyur woman found some courage of her own to try her own fortune, knife stabbing at Gerlind's face only to be turned away by a black gauntlet. The Warrior of Light flowed into a backhand that made teeth crunch and used that momentum to bring her sword into her foe's side. More blood. More screams of pain and another body tumbling into the frost. Gasping the fallen woman tried to stab at Gerlind's ankle, but an armored boot stamped on her wrist and the blade in her hand clattered onto cobblestones then was kicked far out of reach.

The dark knight turned her eyes on the last man as he shivered, the bitter scent of his fear burning at her nostrils as she slowly raised her greatsword. In her mind's eye she saw the Scions each left behind as she _fled_ , consigned to capture at best, _death_ at worse, all while she could do nothing. Anger joined her pain and the dark flames inside her burned the red of blood.

“Good,” Fray breathed in her shadow. “What a glorious night.” The man trembled before her, staring with new fear as she approached. His fellows groaned in agony behind her, rent and ruined. The elezen in the snow clutched at her ripped dress, eyes just as fearful, but Gerlind focused on the blade still in the last man's hand.

He lunged for the elezen, trying to bring his knife to her throat, but Gerlind was quick as night even in her armor. Pain and fury drove her as she tackled him, slamming him so hard the knife slipped from his fingers to fall beneath her boot. He smashed into the alley wall with a yelp of pain that turned into a cry as her sword punched through his chest. Screaming he stared, her gauntlets and chestplate stained so dark she could tell even in the shadow that consumed her, watching him slump before she withdrew her sword. The dark knight's blood ran hot and fierce, emotions she normally kept behind a stoic nod let loose in her veins while she panted and saw her breath come in billowing clouds.

“T-thank you,” the elezen woman stammered, gathering herself up and all but sprinting from the alley with wide eyes. Gerlind stood awash in blood, shoulders rising and falling heavily while Fray clapped softly. His eyes burned beneath the helmet, fingers brushing on her stained face. His black mail was cold on her dark skin but she relished the touch regardless as she looked across the corpses she had left on frosty stone.

“Best quit this place,” Fray murmured huskily. “Their screams will likely draw the Temple Knights down on us, unless you want more bloodshed?”

Gerlind shook her head. “That was enough.” A shard of self-reflection buried itself in her like one of the knives she had turned aside, asking in Mimimoru's voice just _what_ was she doing? But her- _their_ heartbeat sounded and she followed its call, trailing after Fray as they hurried from the alley. Where they were going she knew not, lost in the haze of bloodshed and darkness, red-soaked sword still in her hand when at last they stopped in another alley. Dravanian attack had left this one a ruin, stone piled haphazardly where it had been cleared just enough to open the street, walls half-melted where dragonfire had ravaged and ripped where claws had swung wide of their targets. She rested with arms folded atop her sword, panting while Fray laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Listen to my voice,” he said softly. “Listen to our heartbeat.” Her blood burned hot and sang of heat when she listened, eyes clenched closed, feeling as though she was on fire despite the bitter cold that pricked at her skin. She half-opened her eyes to look at Fray, drinking him in, heart and core too hot. Her lingering adrenaline was like fuel for a flame that _ached_ to spend itself upon something.

“I offer them to you.” Like the axe beaks she had slain in Thanalan. Blood for communion, for affirmation.

Fray breathed in a low hiss and she let him press her to the wall, bloody blade clattering on the snowy stones underfoot. His gauntlet-wrapped hands took her sides, her hands trying for his helmet but he caught her wrists an ilm away with a shake of his head. Cheated she went for the neck instead, scraping her teeth at the gap between helm and coat hungry like an animal. Satisfied she would leave his helm be Fray buried steel-wrapped fingers in her hair and laid the other hand in the center of her chest, keeping her pinned firm to the wall. Gerlind groaned when his knee came up and parted her legs, rubbing hard on her damp folds, of course he knew how she burned for a release. Haurchefant would worship her, treat her like Halone made manifest and make love to her gently, but she needed something raw and animalistic to help her burn.

The lack of privacy to their venue only made that inferno hotter inside her loins, Fray continuing to scrape his thigh and knee on her sex. The very top of an armored boot brushed her and Gerlind howled into his neck, feeling steely fingers tighten on her nape while the hand on her chest shifted enough that his constant pressure pinning her down made her breastplate also press right on a breast. The Warrior of Light moaned, Fray's eyes flaring as he continued his rough work. Down the hand on her neck went, turning to her side when it found her back right against the wall, brushing over her breastplate then going to leather-coated thighs. Her own hands sought his leathery kilt, forcing it open to palm at his hardening cock through his breeches.

Only his roughening breaths told her that her hand on him got to him, the helmeted man slamming his knee against her cunt hard enough that her head slapped on the stone in its fall. She groaned and gasped, his fingers digging into the meat of her thigh hard as she tried to unlace him blind with gauntlet-clad hands, a difficult task at the best of times. His own efforts made it impossible, his knee falling away to be immediately replaced by a cold finger pressed hard against her breeches. Fray rubbed up and down the line of her sex, her smalls pushed between her folds by that pressing finger until she groaned into his neck and bit him hard.

Fray hissed and forced her legs open wider, slamming her against the wall with his hips between her thighs. Eagerly she accepted his dry thrusts, growling in answer every time his rock hard member pounded against her drenched cunt. He was merciless just as she wanted, eyes fixed on her as she slowly came undone beneath his rough touch. Each rut smashed her against unyielding stone and made her bones tremble and she _relished it_. Their heartbeat sounded like a drum again and again, pounding hard enough that its beat sang through her mind when her eyes pressed closed. Still she savaged Fray's neck, pouring out raw need in filthy words.

“Fuck me, Fray,” she hissed, sinking her teeth in until she tasted blood. “Take me right now.”

Fray said nothing, but he dropped her onto shaking legs. Only the wall kept her upright as she ripped a gauntlet off, not caring how the cold bit her fingers through the leather beneath as she tore at her breeches. Laces snapped under her touch, who cared, laces could be repaired. She took breeches and smalls down just enough to bare herself, the icy night biting on her thighs while Fray's cock emerged from his own undone breeches. It stood thick and firm, ready for her and she wrapped leather-clad fingers around it to stroke, lavishing all her best upon it. A thumb swirled over the tip, fingers tight on the shaft, trying to tease a moan or gasp from Fray, a crack in him she could count as a victory, but she won nothing.

Instead Fray's hands clenched cold and hard on her wrists, pinning them to the wall as he drew in close. One wrist was released to let him line himself up with her, the edge of his gauntlet cold on her cunt and ripping a whimper from her desperate lips before the other dark knight took her in one hard thrust. Back around her wrist the hand went, his hips insatiable in their thrusting immediately. Gerlind screamed into Fray's skin as he took her like a beast, bare buttocks scraping on the wall behind her but she only cared for the cock that filled her to the brim again and again. The dark knight yearned to wrap her arms around him, to crush Fray in her grip while he used her thus, but his fingers were unyielding iron on her wrists to leave her helpless. All she could do was spread her legs as wide as she could with her breeches still at the top of her boots and let him fuck her just as she had yearned for.

Fuck her he did, basking in her bloodied body while his cock head slammed her spot over and over. Beneath her armor she burned and sweated, mouth drowned in coppery tang, the scent of it all she could smell. Her head scraped on rough stone when she tipped it back, longing for Fray to rip off his helmet and ravage her throat with mouth and teeth just as feral as the cock inside her, but the helmet stayed firmly on. The eyes underneath burned with hunger when she looked, the very same hunger boiling away in her cunt.

“Use me like a whore,” she panted at the blank plate. “Pour your seed in me, Fray!” Only panted breath answered, her own fogging her view with a cold cloud as it poured out in primal heaves. Already ablaze with need, Fray's savaging quickly slammed her right up on her edge hard as his thrusts pressed her hips to the wall. She buried her face in her mentor's coat and let out a scream of orgasm while she crashed, writhing helpless against the hands that pinned her wrists, her release taking her just as mercilessly as Fray did. Hot levin poured through every ilm of her body, scouring her inside out with barbed pleasure until her throat ached from screaming. All through her climax Fray continued apace, her rump bruised and bloodied from scraping and slamming into the stone over and over, but that pain only made her pleasure seem all the more potent.

She finished with arms aching where Fray had held them up while the rest of her slumped, the other dark knight finally letting her wrists go so she could collapse into him. Gerlind shuddered against his body, gasping in the cold that now intruded on her face and her thighs. Keen to avoid frostbite's touch she tugged her breeches back up over sodden skin, rigging the broken laces into a tie as good as she could manage in the dark with trembling fingers. Fray meanwhile did his own breeches back up casually, unspent cock hidden from view.

“Not going to let me finish you?” she purred as best she could through her sore throat.

Fray's eyes met her own, the same hue in different irises. “All that needed doing's done,” he said. Cheated, she scoffed and forced her hand back into her gauntlet, then snatched up her bloodstained sword. It slid back in its sheath, it and her armor could be cleaned later, and she would wash the blood crusted on her skin once she slipped back into the manor. “Go back to your manor and your lord now. This communion is ended, but soon enough we shall meet again, as we did before, Gerlind.”

She knew it as he knew it, and so she bade him farewell with a curt nod and walked away through cold streets, snow beginning to drift down to blanket stone and dragon corpse alike. As Gerlind made her way back toward Fortemps Manor and warmth, she began trying to figure out an explanation she could give Haurchefant to explain just how her rump had gotten so injured that did not involve a savage rutting against an alley wall in the dead of night.


	26. To Drown Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Swallowing  
> Spoilers for the end of ARR/start of Heavensward

Even wrapped up tight in a fur coat, Cocolai shivered every step of the way through Ishgard's streets. It was certainly majestic and beautiful, the stonework inspiring, the statues of heroic knights stirring a muse he hadn't even known he had. Though the scars of the Dragonsong War were plain to see, Dravanian corpses where they had fallen to sword, spear and dragonkiller alike, stonework smashed to pieces, he could see how glorious it would have seemed in the bygone days before the war. He trailed after the Warriors of Light through cobblestoned streets, Mimimoru bringing up the rear of the group to stay near him.

“Are you warm enough?” the monk asked, hands already coming to the collar of his own coat. “If not, I-”

Cocolai patted him on the arm. “Mimi, I would rather shiver a little than see you turn into a frozen statue.” He smiled warmly and pecked his lover on the cheek, Mimimoru blushing. Passing knights eyed them, marching down toward the Steps of Faith with spear and sword at the ready. Cocolai looked back after them, still impressed by the sheer discipline of the Ishgardians as they marched on out of sight in the falling snow. Once they were gone he looked ahead again, finding the group clustered at a crossroads. They debated with a sentry a moment then continued on, all wrapped up against the cold that was unfamiliar to them. He, Mimimoru and Solemn Flame were bundled up the most, Ul'dah's warm climes malms away from the ice and snow of Coerthas.

Even putting that aside, beautiful as he found Ishgard, every aspect of it felt _off_ somehow. It was a city built for elezen and hyur, the steps a little too tall for him, everything scaled just taller than it would be in Ul'dah. After all the desert city had originally been built by lalafell for lalafell, and although it had naturally adapted to the wide variety of people who traveled from far and wide to come to the merchant city, that basis still remained in more gently rising steps, seats scaled to lalafell height and more. Ishgard wore its own basis proudly and suddenly Cocolai found himself in a world where everything towered high. It was disconcerting but he would gladly bear it to stay by Mimimoru's side.

He had had to wait and pray while the monk went to storm the Praetorium, every time he went to fight a primal. He could not bear to sit in Ul'dah and just _wait_ while his lover traveled the north and searched for Gerlind, and Mimimoru could not bear to leave him in the city where _something_ had led to Gerlind and the Scions all but disappearing from the realm's eyes. They had received clipped messages from her at least, indications that she was safe, cautiously worded to avoid giving her exact location. Alphinaud's suggestion, Mimimoru had ventured, a precaution in case the same conspiracy that had seen the lot of them scattered across the realm chasing nonsense assignments with Crystal Brave assassins at their backs managed to intercept the letters. But after confirming she had not set up shop in Gridania or Limsa Lominsa, Ishgard was left the most likely place to look, so there they were.

Their band trudged up sloping streets until they found an inn. The Forgotten Knight, its sign named it, a board by its door laden with bills of some sort. They all went in to escape the cold, the inn's warmth welcome relief even if it would shortly make their coats just as uncomfortable. It was Maurelin and Tahla who stepped up to the bar to make introductions and sort rooms for them all, the others wandering around. Kuri curiously made toward a black-mailed au ra in a corner who seemed the dark to her light, his horns black where hers were white, a curt exchange passing between the two while Cocolai caught a few patrons offering the bard skeptical looks. A blondish elezen girl sat meekly beside the man and Cocolai caught her gaze a moment, curious but she seemed at ease beside her muscular guardian so he remained by Mimimoru.

As the others spread out, the two lalafell stayed close, fingers twining, stood side by side. It had been some suns since the last time they had been able to spend time together, the Warriors of Light busy dealing with troubles up and down the realm, the Ivy, Iceheart, and then this conspiracy. Even if Ishgard was a strange unfamiliar place, Cocolai felt more at ease than he had in Ul'dah recently. The Sultana “taken ill”, the Flame General nowhere to be seen, it all made him nervous.

“It's all so big,” Mimimoru murmured, his hand tight around Cocolai's like he feared at any moment the brunette would disappear. Mayhap that was exactly what he feared, he had looked so wide-eyed and scared when he burst into their apartment just a week before with Crystal Brave blood still on his hands where he had fought off their betrayal. Cocolai squeezed his hand in reassurance, they were away, they were safe, surely whoever had control of the Crystal Braves could not extend their reach into Ishgard when the city had only _just_ opened itself after so long.

Maurelin and Tahla returned smiling, keys in their hands. “We may have neglected a room for Asmir under the assumption he would make his own arrangements,” the murky-haired duskwight teased as he handed his out.

The hrothgar chuckled. “You may judge my success on the basis of whether I come begging to share _yours_.” Tahla playfully swatted at the warrior's ear and passed Asmir a key, the white mage booming in laughter as he took it.

“We'll soon see if it was gil well spent,” Tahla purred, her tail swishing by Cocolai's head as she handed him the key for he and Mimimoru's room. “At the least Gibrillont seems happy to have well-paying customers.”

“He will have us for the foreseeable future,” Naeve noted, the viera somehow content in her drachen mail where the rest of them were all bundled up more than usual, her lance at her back as ever. Cocolai wondered if somehow these snowy climes were something she was used to, but he had never made much conversation with the dragoon to know. “At least until we find Gerlind.” They all nodded their agreement.

“Mayhap we should settle in,” Solemn Flame added from her side, “and then begin making our inquiries.” He looked left at his lover. “Love, if any of us can command respect here, surely it is the second Azure Dragoon.” His tone was hushed but even so Cocolai caught a few pairs of eyes looking over curiously.

“And if that should fail, we might begin leveraging our defense of the Steps of Faith,” Kuri mused, making him jump. He had not noticed her returning from the dark corner.

“I saw you made a friend, Kuri,” Asmir commented wryly.

The bard nodded. “I would not mayhap go so far, we have exchanged but a few words. His name is Sidurgu and that was the gist of our conversation.”

“A short conversation then,” Cocolai mused.

Kuri glanced down at him with a nod. He and Mimimoru were the shortest of their band, only adding to his sense of discomfort. “In any case, we ought to see our belongings stored before we do anything else.” She took her key from Maurelin and followed the elezen's pointing finger toward the door that led through to the lodgings, the rest of them following between the tables. Mimimoru took the front as they squeezed through, following down the corridor to the door with the same number as their key. Around them locks clicked open and the Warriors of Light entered their sanctuaries, Maurelin and Tahla already kissing, Naeve and Flame more restrained but clearly yearning for one another after the long cold trek across the Steps of Faith.

Cocolai knew exactly how they felt, his longing only exacerbated by the fact he had been left behind while Mimimoru helped the others to deal with the Crystal Braves and search for their lost Warrior of Light. Fear hadn't helped that either, fear that at any moment he might be taken to threaten the monk, even with Immortal Flames conspicuously near his door at seemingly all hours at the behest of Mimimoru and Flame both. But he could not stay locked up inside half the realm away from his lover, not while everything in Ul'dah still seemed uncertain and _the_ Warrior of Light was missing save a few garbled accounts of a warrior in black armor who looked much like her.

The inn room seemed comfortable enough, though he could not speak much from experience there, his stays in inns had been furtive and consumed almost entirely by sex and sleep followed by a trip home in the morning. Dark wood made up wall, floor and ceiling, an old threadbare rug over the floor, the bed a single but since it was meant for those of hyur or elezen size they would squeeze in comfortably. Cocolai crossed to the window after setting his satchel down, climbing on the chest by it to gaze through frost-caked glass. A poorer district lay below, the less fortunate bustling through a snowy street or peddling wares in the cold. The more different things were, the more they stayed the same, he thought with a hint of sadness.

He felt Mimimoru's arms on his hips. “Be careful,” the monk murmured, head rested against Cocolai's back.

“I will, Mimi.” He turned away from the window and slipped down so he was sitting, pulling the black-haired man close. They embraced tight. “I missed you and feared for you these past suns.”

“I know,” Mimimoru whispered guiltily. A groan from next door turned both their heads, simultaneous smiles on their lips.

“I see Maurelin and Tahla wasted no time,” Cocolai chuckled, pecking his lover's cheek, his smile slipping as Mimimoru's gaze remained downcast. “I don't blame you for any of this, Mimi. Blame the _whoreson_ Crystal Braves who tried to put blades in your back.” He hugged the monk tighter and closed, lips brushing on his forehead as he tugged Mimimoru to his chest.

“I worry about it all,” Mimimoru confessed softly. “Whatever has become of Gerlind. The Sultana and Raubahn. I do not believe she is 'ill'.”

“I neither,” the brunette nodded. “Especially not when you were all scattered far away from Ul'dah, away from Gerlind and the Scions. But if Gerlind is here, then surely she will have our answers.”

Mimimoru sighed in his arms, Cocolai's hands working soft strokes on his back. They nuzzled a while, listening to the bed creaking a room away. Slowly cuddling became kissing, Mimimoru coming up to touch their lips. At first it was gentle, affectionate, but both of them longed for more and they deepened accordingly. Cocolai moaned into his lover's mouth, caressing strong arms while tough hands rubbed at his back. “Coco,” Mimimoru breathed huskily, lashes brushing on Cocolai's face as the monk's green eyes opened.

“Would you like to follow their example?” Cocolai teased with a cock of his head toward Maurelin and Tahla's room.

Mimimoru blushed a little and looked pointedly at the brunette. “Um, mayhap not quite so eagerly.” He leaned in and they kissed again, warming one another with the feel of body on body. Cocolai's back pressed against the windowsill as his lover crawled up to rest their hips together, hands coming to his shoulders and cupping the nape of his neck with Mimimoru leaned onto him.

“Mimi,” he sighed, voice aching with longing. They kissed harder, needier, hands clenching and clutching. Maurelin and Tahla's impassioned cries, the howl of the wind outside, all of it faded beneath their own moans and gasps of each others' names. Their bodies scraped together in primal yearning, blood warming faster and faster the more they kissed. Eyes opened, drunk with passion and love, then closed to let their lips slam together hard again. All their trauma and fear poured out in those kisses, spurring them on to kiss and touch more desperately.

“Coco,” Mimimoru breathed heavily, pulling his face just an ilm away. “I want to make it all up to you.”

Cocolai sighed, fingers stroking at the monk's cheek. Stubble scraped his fingertips, of course Mimimoru hadn't had much time to take care of himself with treason and everything else to take care of. “None of it is your fault,” he said. “Although, if you want to apologize that sincerely, mayhap I can think of something.” A wry grin crossed his lips before he kissed Mimimoru again, mussing at the monk's hair as hands worked off coats. Beneath his Cocolai wore black trousers and a white shirt, Mimimoru instead dressed in his brilliant yellow temple garments.

“What would you have me do?” the monk said, groaning as Cocolai's hand went down to find his hardening cock. The brunette teased a while, letting Mimimoru's hips rock into his hold, feeling his own trousers tighten as dirty thoughts ran pleasingly through his mind.

“Touch me, first of all,” he breathed huskily, and immediately those wonderful fingers were on his cock. Cocolai groaned and his eyes lidded, feeling Mimimoru worked his shaft through his clothes. “Oh, Mimi, by the gods...” The monk's lips pressed on his neck, bodies tight together as Mimimoru kissed and suckled on his neck. Normally it was the other way around, normally Mimimoru would lay and Cocolai would lavish his body with love, but this reversal was so delightful that he yearned for more.

“I love you, Coco,” his lover murmured, breath warm on Cocolai's skin before slowly he slipped down toward the floor. Soon the black-haired man knelt before the brunette, Cocolai all but jumping down from the chest as calloused fingers slipped into the hem of his trousers. Mimimoru left them a moment, leaning in to nuzzle at Cocolai's bulge and kiss the cock beneath.

“By Rhalgr, oh,” he panted, relishing every touch, feeling a hand slide down to stroke him. “Mimi, please-” His own hands took his trousers even before he had finished, undoing them with shaking hands then forcing them and his smalls down in one go. He could not bear to drag the proceedings out, he just wanted to feel the monk touch him, kiss him, _suck_ him. Cocolai's cock sprang free and Mimimoru was upon it like levin, strong fingers tight on the shaft while soft lips lavished the head with kisses and licks. Soon the brunette shook at the knees, groaning in earnest and petting Mimimoru's hair with those heavenly lips taking his cock between them.

Mimimoru groaned around the member in his mouth, tongue still playing over the head until the point where Cocolai was too deep for that. But the sensation of his lover's warm wet mouth around him was a welcome replacement, tearing a whimper of the monk's name from deep inside his throat. It was unbearable resisting the urge to rut so he gave in, trying to thrust gently at first to at least allow Mimimoru to adjust. The other man's free hand stroked up the back of Cocolai's thigh and found his rump, tough fingers digging into soft flesh and kneading.

“Oh Mimi,” Cocolai groaned, head tipped right back, hands on the back on Mimimoru's head as he thrusted into the monk's mouth again and again. The brunette looked down, the sight of those green eyes staring lovingly up at him while his cock stuffed the mouth beneath them making him throb deep in his lover's mouth. A deeper thrust had him scrape on the back of Mimimoru's throat but still he didn't gag, working his mouth in time with each buck of Cocolai's hips to please him as much as possible. “Mimi, _gods_ I'm close-!”

Mimimoru nodded on his shaft, the bob of his head only making Cocolai edge closer to his peak. The hand at his rear worked harder, clenched tighter and he _growled_ in aching need, the monk's sucking nothing short of divine. Cocolai panted, head tipping back again, rutting furiously. He wanted to cum, wanted to fill his lover's mouth and see him take every drop of seed down his throat. Even the image of it in his mind was enough to make him throb furiously, _so close_ , Mimimoru releasing him an agonizing moment to gasp for breath and pant the brunette's name with his tongue going from shaft to balls then back up.

As soon as Mimimoru's mouth engulfed him again Cocolai simply could not last, the heat, the feel, it was all too much. He throbbed desperately, feeling himself tighten with each hard thrust, the green eyes _begging_ for his load when he chanced a look down. The sight of Mimimoru was finally too much for him to bear. “Mimi, oh, _Mimi_ -!” he wailed, clinging to his lover while he erupted. A spurt of seed poured onto the monk's tongue, the second coming at the end of the thrust to pour right into Mimimoru's throat. More and more followed, Cocolai lost in the feeling of that wonderful mouth milking him of his cum, each swallow vibrating over his length to make sure he spilled all he had. He cried Mimimoru's name again and again in his throes, hips slowing to a halt but the monk continued to bob his head up and down until it felt as though every last drop of seed had been wrung from Cocolai.

Exhausted he pulled from his lover's mouth and slumped back onto the chest, staring with loving eyes to see Mimimoru make one last swallow and finally pant for breath in turn. A trickle of seed stained the monk's lip, lost in one of Cocolai's thrusts, so the brunette reached out to pull the black-haired man up. For a moment he held Mimimoru there, both eyes glazed over with raw love before Cocolai leaned in to lap the monk's face clean and then kiss him hard and deep. The taste of his own seed mingled with that of Mimimoru's mouth, bitter on his tongue but he relished it, brushing his tongue against the other man's again and again fiercely until all too soon they had to pant for breath once more.

“Oh, Coco, you have filled me right up,” Mimimoru teased breathlessly, licking his lips as though he thought Cocolai might have left more spilled seed untouched.

Cocolai laughed, just as breathless. He took a moment to get his wind back before he answered. “You may consider yourself forgiven and more, Mimi.” He eyed the monk's body, gaze fixating on the still hard tent in the yellow trousers. “In fact, let us not speak of forgiveness, I think you have done a good deed for me and I would return the favor.” He chuckled before kissing Mimimoru again, groping at the monk's cock until a gasp brushed on his mouth.

“Coco,” Mimimoru groaned, head sinking as he whimpered. Next door Maurelin all but snarled Tahla's name, a thud against the wall suggesting their lovemaking had turned as rough as expected.

“I hope they do not get us all thrown out before our first sun here has even ended,” Cocolai laughed, still working Mimimoru with gentle fingers. The monk's hips began to rock and he pressed a kiss in black curls, head moving to his lover's ear. “I see they have no plan to finish any time soon, so mayhap we might take a bell ourselves?” His lips inched closer, brushing on Mimimoru's ear while the monk groaned. “I would like to taste you in turn, Mimi.”

Mimimoru's moan at that suggestion sounded distinctly pleased and Cocolai grinned wide.


	27. A World Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Phone Sex  
> Spoilers for Stormblood and minor spoilers for Shadowbringers

Welcoming as Doma always was, Naeve wished she could have left sooner by far. The chance to be closer to Dalmasca was welcome, a brief contact with the home she had long left behind and the comrades whose respect she had earned fighting through the ruins of Rabanastre, the Ridorana Lighthouse, and the cursed Orbonne Monastery. Hearing of the Dalmascan resistance's latest success warmed her heart, knowing her homeland was a step closer to repeating Doma's example.

But none of that dulled the longing ache that throbbed away.

The blonde viera walked gardens, taking in flowers and people alike. The land healed well from Yotsuyu's tyranny, the people rejoicing under Lord Hien's rule. Speaking of the man, he approached, a wide grin on his lips as he stopped before the gunbreaker. Her blade was left in her chambers but she still wore her blue coat, a little too warm in the pleasant weather.

“Naeve,” Hien smiled. “Full glad am I to see you enjoying the gardens.”

Naeve gave the black-haired lord a smile back as he folded his arms as he oft seemed to. Even when she fought for his nation what seemed an age ago, she had left much of the talking to Gerlind and others, letting her spear speak for her and spending the quiet between battles at Flame's side. She wondered if he or the xaela had ever figured out that she had fought through Bardam's Mettle at Gerlind's side.

“They are beautiful gardens,” she mused, brushing fingers over the flowers, trying to dull the ache in her heart. “Doma has grown well since I was last here.”

Hien's grin widened. “I am sure my people would be most grateful to hear you say so. We have all labored hard to undo the damage done by Garlean oppression. I pray that your homeland may do the same soon.”

Teal eyes lidded a moment and when they opened again Hien started, the beginnings of an apology on his lips before Naeve shook her head. “No, no, Lord Hien. You have not upset or offended me, do not worry.” She paused, continuing to caress petals. “I worry about much and more of late.”

“And I am truly sorry to add more to a plate already overflowing,” Hien sighed. “But I knew not where else to turn.”

“Precious few have this gift of ours,” the viera mused. “Would that Gerlind could have answered your call.”

The hyur very nearly frowned, she was sure, even though his jovial manner had always seemed nigh indomitable to her. But then she had been at arm's length from him always, a soldier serving under his ambition rather than a comrade serving beside him. Gerlind had bonded with him more, just as _the_ Warrior of Light always seemed to make people orbit her like the moons orbited the star and the stars orbited the sun. The thought of the sun turned her mind to the reason she and Kuri had come to Doma to begin with.

“I find myself almost wishing the die would be cast,” Hien mused aloud. “This dreadful suspense does none of us any favors, I am sure.”

Naeve inclined her head. “Would that the rebellious might play according to a convenient schedule?” A little mirth slipped into her tone and Hien laughed.

“When you put it so, it does sound rather foolish of me. Though if they mean to summon Amaterasu as the signs indicate, it would be refreshingly pleasant if they would kindly invite any and all to witness her descent,” the samurai smiled.

Naeve smiled at a thought. “So that you might invite Magnai to gaze upon the kami of the sun? Surely 'little sun' has suffered enough of a blow to his pride?”

He laughed again. “I did wonder if Gerlind or Y'shtola had spoken of that disastrous proposition to you and yours.” He sighed. “I admit, if her mere presence would not leave him enthralled, I might consider it.” Hien's grin showed teeth. “I do regret dragging you and Kuri away from Eorzea where you are sorely needed, by your account.”

Naeve looked at him. “Even summoned out of a wish to wreak destruction upon the Empire, Amaterasu would be a threat to all around her, as Shinryu showed in Gyr Abania.” Inwardly she cursed Ilberd and whichever fools had spread the story of his actions far enough that rebels the other side of the star had found out and taken inspiration. She darkly suspected an Ascian's claws behind that turn of ill fortune. “We cannot in good conscience leave you without our aid while the threat of a primal looms over you, Lord Hien. Eorzea is still well defended even without us.”

Hien nodded. “I sincerely thank you and Kuri for it.” At that, he glanced about. “Where _is_ Kuri, for that matter?”

Naeve laughed a little. “Doubtless Zansei is keeping her _entertained_.”

The samurai returned her laughter with an impish smirk. “As he has kept her _entertained_ since the sun we liberated Doma, I believe.” Naeve smiled, even if the sentiment made that throbbing ache fiercer. How she missed her lover's arms, but to pull a third Warrior of Light from Eorzea seemed too much in light of all that occurred, especially when the informants in imperial territory muttered of some new initiative on the Empire's end. “Forgive me, but I meant to meet with a representative from the Confederacy to negotiate new trading terms. Pleasant as your company is and dull an affair as it is certain to be, it would not do to unduly irritate him by being late.”

“Of course,” Naeve smiled. “I hope you find him in good spirits, for the sake of Doma.”

Hien chuckled as he passed her. “And I pray that our hidden adversaries make their move soon so that we may all breathe more easily. Fare well, Naeve.” He continued on, greeting everyone he passed with the same jovial confidence. He was certainly a likable man, Naeve reflected as she too continued, regarding the gardens, offering little smiles to the Domans who greeted her and returning their bows. It still seemed strange to be celebrated as a liberator while Dalmasca yet lay in Garlean chains. She marked the position of the sun in the sky, trying to estimate in her head what time it would be back in Eorzea. It was an imperfect science, but she judged it about the time she had been waiting for.

Surely he would not mind if she was a little early.

The viera hurried back toward the room she had been given in the Kienkan, next to Kuri's of course. While they waited for the enemy to make their move, all they could do was rest, make ready and occasionally help the people of Doma with smaller problems than the looming primal of the sun, so much of their time was spent about the Enclave. Kuri at least had Zansei to spend time with, but that only left Naeve feeling lonelier without Flame there, unwilling to intrude much on the lovers so much of her time was spent wandering listlessly about, sparring with Yugiri, samurai and on one occasion Hien himself to stay sharp for the battle that awaited, and waiting for this time every day.

Not for the first time she wished it had been someone else sent, but the fact was that Flame could cover Ul'dah without her, especially with Fordola and Arenvald on standby to assist him should Ifrit rise again. Mimimoru leaving Ala Mhigo while the Empire allegedly planned some new assault was out of the question, and with Gerlind gone Naeve had the best ties to the Dalmascan resistance in case those who would summon Amaterasu were coordinating with them. Maurelin and Tahla could pick up the slack in Gridania or Ul'dah if needs be, they had decided. And surely Amaterasu's summoners would make their move swiftly, they had all thought.

That had been a fortnight ago now, sixteen suns spent waiting, pacing, aching.

Her room opened before her. A sky blue futon neat on the floor, her belongings placed as though of a guest because any day the summoning might be attempted, be thwarted by either their interruption or Amaterasu's defeat, and then she and Kuri would return home. Her gunblade rested against the wall, a satchel of clothes near it. Naeve shed her boots to rest atop the futon, legs curled at her side as she listened intently for a moment. No sound came from Kuri's room, not a word, not a giggle, not a cry. She supposed the two raen must have gone elsewhere for the day, reachable by linkpearl if anything should happen, but that gave her much-wanted privacy.

Naeve fished her linkpearl from her belt, placing it to her ear and listening to its chime. There was silence a short while, so much that she almost thought she had misjudged the time too much.

Then his voice came as clear as though he stood right beside her.

“Naeve?” He sounded groggy as though he had just woken, but even so she could hear the joy in his tone.

“I am here, love,” she breathed. “Did you sleep well?”

Flame sighed. “Well enough, though I still wake up expecting to find you beside me.” Naeve cast her teal eyes down at the futon sadly, fingers playing across the blankets.

“I wish this business was done so I could come home to you, my love,” the viera murmured. “I miss you more keenly by the day and for the words I spent talking to Lord Hien, General Fran, everyone under the sun and sky here, not one yet knows where those who would summon Amaterasu are, only that they have gathered many crystals and seeded praise for the goddess among the people.”

“Doma is safe because you and Kuri are there,” the roegadyn rumbled. “Much as I ache for you, I would rather bear it as many weeks as we must than see Doma fall before a primal.”

It was her turn to sigh in painful longing. “I would not leave Lord Hien and his people to that threat even should I have to stay a year to see them safe.” A moment passed with just their breathing. “But Kuri and Zansei are oft about Doma as lovers and I left behind.” Fingers came onto her thigh, playing over the leg of her breeches. Wistfully she imagined they were his, caressing, loving.

“What of Lord Hien? Yugiri?” Naeve could hear the frown in his voice.

“Busy with much and more. I spoke to Lord Hien just now, but he must meet many and more people, and while Yugiri is kind enough I...” She grasped for a kind way to speak her thoughts. “She and I only spar when she has the time, and much of her time she spends in Lord Hien's shadow.”

Flame sighed again. “I could ask Maurelin to watch Ul'dah a day-”

Naeve shook her head even as he spoke. “No, my love, I can bear it. Eorzea needs you more than I.” Those words were bitter in her mouth, ashen and cold. Fingers tightened on her thigh, longing for them to be his, longing to be held and touched and loved by more than his ghost in her head.

“I dream of you,” the roegadyn murmured. “I...”

“Love?”

When he spoke again she could all but see the blush on his cheeks. “I dreamed of us making love, Naeve. Last night.”

Heat flooded her own cheeks and instinct threw a glance at the door, finding it closed and not a sound beyond. Fingertips traced up her thigh a little. “Me too, Flame.” She remembered the dreams so vividly she swore they had happened, the feel of him inside her, on her, the heat of their bodies pressed together with her riding atop him.

“Naeve, love,” he breathed. “Have you...” She could imagine the blush on his cheeks burning hotter just as it did in hers, already knowing what he asked.

“Not once since I arrived,” she admitted. “I did not want to disturb Kuri and Zansei.” Not that they shared that quibble, more than once she had woken in the night to their passionate cries of ecstasy.

“I neither,” Flame said. “Without you, it felt _wrong_.” A thought ventured into Naeve's mind, so erotic that she shivered and again checked the door, listening intently a few moments. “Love?”

“I am here _now_ ,” the viera breathed. He breathed heavy.

“Naeve, do you mean-”

“Yes,” Naeve replied, dragging her fingers right up to the top of her thigh. “I am alone, Flame. No Kuri, no Zansei, no Hien, no one but you and I.” On edge she shifted in place, letting her legs slip open a little while her hand flowed up to her belly and across it.

“Are you touching yourself? Or are you going to?” her lover breathed, voice husky.

“Mmm, yes,” the viera replied, a little moan escaping her when she squeezed one modest breast. Flame gasped over the linkpearl and cloth rustled. She imagined bedding falling aside, his hand slipping down to grip himself, the image of his hand on his cock enough to further wet already damp folds. She squeezed her tit harder and groaned. “Flame, oh how I want you...”

“Tell me,” he whispered, need blazing in his lilt.

Levin danced over her skin as she fidgeted with her clothes, trying her best to work her shirt up one-handed to above her bra. Once she managed it she seized her breast again, thumb rubbing back and forth on the bulge of her nipple, fingers digging in until she gasped. “I want you to kiss my breasts as you do, lap at my skin and suck me until you leave a mark.”

The roegadyn whimpered. “Gods, Naeve.” He was surely stroking himself and that thought ignited her sex even more.

“Slide a finger into me,” Naeve breathed, working her bra down enough for a breast to fall free. She groaned at the feel of her fingers on warm skin, squeezing and kneading, rolling the hard nipple between two fingers before she groped the whole breast again. “And let me stroke you.”

“Yes, oh yes my love,” he gasped. “Oh how I want you, Naeve-”

“Are you dreaming of my hand on you, love?” She let a sultry purr into her tone and was rewarded with his whine of need.

“More than anything,” Flame gasped. “Please, Naeve, I want to hear more of your divine voice.”

“Saying the filthiest things?” He groaned and she smiled, gasping herself when she let her other breast free and worked at it. Her sex burned hot and fierce, aching to be filled whether by her hand or his cock. “Kiss down my body like I am your very _goddess_ , Flame.”

“Oh, you are-”

“Touch me through my smalls and feel how I _drip_ for you.” Fingers struggled with her belt, desperate to follow her own improvised script. “And then my love, I will put my mouth on your cock and suck you just how you love me to.”

“Naeve!” he cried.

The belt came undone followed by the trousers and in a moment her hand was in her panties, desperately rubbing at slick petals. Naeve whimpered for him. “I-I lay atop you so you can taste me, oh _gods_ , lick me, kiss me Flame!” A finger slid into her and the viera tumbled back, fingering a moment then trying to work trousers and smalls both down enough to bare her aching slit. As soon as cool air brushed on it her hand went back, working at herself in burning need. He panted now as she did, the world's length between them but their love and desire transcending even such distance.

“By Rhalgr, oh my love-” he groaned, voice strained, hand surely working his shaft fiercely.

Naeve slid another finger into herself, eyes lidded as her hips writhed and her legs tried to stretch wider than the clothes at her knees would let her. She rocked atop the futon, breasts and sex bare to anyone who walked in, and that thought only heightened her perverse excitement. Her ears brushed on the blankets when her head toppled back, fingers only just staying on the linkpearl to hold the connection. “Oh, I love you! Take me, love, please!”

“Oh Naeve, how I _yearn_ to,” he groaned. Naeve curled her fingers, scraping their tips on her walls until she wailed in pleasure, imagining it was his fingers in her, then as she added a third his cock took their place in mind. Her hips bucked while her back arched, the viera furiously fingering and moaning in her desperate longing. Her lover poured his own need into her ear, her breasts and core aching with how fiercely she _needed_ Flame. A chorus of their names sang in panted breath, both masturbating furiously to the mere sound of the other and filling their minds imagining how they would make love if the world itself did not part them.

“Fill me, please, love,” Naeve whimpered, eyes closed tight so she could picture the roegadyn above her with his hips thrusting into hers. She buried her fingers as deep as she could and cried out, panting harder after the spike of pleasure fell again. Her fingers and thighs lay drenched, her every nerve blazed when the fingers found her spot, but she longed for more and more by the moment. “Make sweet love to me for bell after bell until we fall asleep intertwined.”

“Oh, Twelve, I was sent an angel to speak the sweetest things,” Flame groaned. “If only you were here, gods, the things I would do-”

“The things I would do to _you_ , love,” Naeve panted, slick fingers leaving her flower and dragging over shaven skin to grope her breast once before returning to rub hard circles on her clit. New peaks of pleasure blazed and the viera cried his name again and again. “Oh, love, close, close-”

“Cum with me,” the roegadyn panted. “Oh, Naeve, please together-” She wanted it, yearned to finish alongside him, but she knew not how close he was and she surely was wobbling at the very edge. Her body burned, walls tighter when she slid her fingers back against them to imagine it was him inside her once more.

“Flame, I, _gods_ -” A wail tore through her words and her hips bucked harder than before, arching her as she cried out for him.

“ _Naeve_!”

“ _Flame_!”

Their names echoed across one another and Naeve gave in, unable to hold on. Wave after wave of utter pleasure crashed over her, burning through her veins as the viera shuddered atop the futon, pouring out the names of him and the gods over and over as she tried to find herself in a storm of ecstasy. Her slick drenched her fingers and hand, her feet brushing on the floor as she writhed. His own cries of climax filled her ears and the veena grinned through her haze, the knowledge that she had brought him to his end too filling her with satisfaction even when she rested panting on her back with her release cooling on her sweaty skin. Gasping for breath she lay still, just listening to the two of them breathing.

“I love you,” the viera gasped as soon as she had even just enough breath.

“I love you too,” he answered in the same ecstatic, breathless pant. Perhaps a minute passed while they found their wind. “Gods, your voice... I have always loved it yet when it is all I have it sounds heavenly.”

Naeve laughed a little. “If absence makes you so fond of my voice then I look forward to and dread what you will do with the rest of me once I return.”

The roegadyn chuckled. “If this is anything to go by, neither of us will leave the bed for a week.”

She blushed despite herself, glancing at the door. Whether her cries had gone unheard or whether the Domans had been too polite to intrude she wasn't sure, though she imagined if someone had heard and Lord Hien caught wind of it then he would surely make mention of _entertaining_ at some point. “I pray it will be soon.”

“Aye, me too,” he said, not quite as solemn as his name. “I shall pray, and keep our home safe for your return, Naeve.”

The viera sighed wistfully, her afterglow fading as she began working at her clothes. Even if she was going to go directly to the hot spring to wash the scent of sex from her body, walking the halls and paths disheveled would raise gossip and she did not yet possess Maurelin and Tahla's level of shamelessness. “I cannot say when I will be home, Flame, but I pray it is soon.”

“If it drags on much longer, may we do this again?” he ventured after a moment, surprisingly bashful but she loved him for it.

“Mayhap I can find a moment of solitude here and there for you, love,” she purred, his chuckle making her heart sing. “I must go wash, Flame, you have left me in a terrible state.”

“Pray forgive me, but I must do the same,” the roegadyn chuckled. “I am meant to meet the Sultana in a few bells and my lover has left me filthy.”

Naeve laughed. “Pray pass my regards to Nanamo, oh guest of royalty, and may we speak again anon.”

“As soon as we may,” Flame murmured. “Stay safe, my love.”

“I will,” Naeve replied tenderly. “My love.” Neither wanted to be the first to end the call but someone had to, so she spoke again as one of them always did. “Three... two... one.” Fingers fell from her ear and she lay a moment with a hand on her breast, feeling her heart still pounding. She still ached in many ways, fingers from how hard she had fingered herself, breasts where she had groped so roughly, muscles protesting her writhing and bucking.

But the ache of loneliness and longing had been banished, for a time. She offered a silent prayer to gods and kami alike that soon the rebels might make their move, and she could put it to rest for good just as she and Kuri would either thwart Amaterasu's summoning or likewise put the primal to rest.


	28. In the Storm's Coils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Xenophilia  
> Spoilers for Stormblood

Even bells and bells into the night, Ala Mhigo rang with the sounds of victory and celebration.

At every corner soldier mingled with civilian, rebel with the liberated. Near two epochs of Garlean oppression were at an end and after a day of fierce battle, all rejoiced and burned with passion. The drink poured freely as it was brought out from storerooms, and again and again toasts were called and raised. The people of Ala Mhigo toasted the Eorzean Alliance, whose soldiers had fought a gruelling street by street march through the city. They toasted those of Doma who had fought for a country a world away from their own.

Above all, they toasted the Warriors of Light who had seen Zenos yae Galvus fall and defeated Shinryu in the heavens above.

Asmir Lianasch heard the toasts raised, heard the cheers and cries, and he revelled in them. Even in the night after that final battle tiredness did not claim him, his blood alight with levin from the victory he had contributed to. The other Warriors of Light had all vanished at one time or another, seeking to vent stress, fear and fervor alike in the arms of their lovers or to escape the showers of attention that were poured on their heads from all corners. The whole aftermath he had spent basking in that, resistance leaders, the heads of the Alliance, Lyse and Raubahn all offering him and the others their praise and congratulations and then soldiers and rebels both cheering him, clapping him on the back and pressing tankards into his claws.

Now he sat among a group around a fire outside one of the bars that had gladly offered their stock to the liberators, resistance soldiers mostly, a few Alliance men and women joining them. A faithful presence stayed very much welcome at his side.

The sandy-furred hrothgar drained the latest he had been offered and his companion cheered. He had drunk and reveled with many since the battle's end, but one had stayed near him the whole time. Ila tipped back her own drink, finishing it with a smile. Even with all that she had drunk the ananta somehow managed to keep her balance on her tail, tankard landing on the tabletop with a thump while the resistance soldiers they drank with clapped and cheered. Asmir had eyes only for the vira woman, her curvaceous body, the way her hyur-like upper half seamlessly flowed into serpentine tail, the hair he knew was actually more scales from brushing against it in a stumble at one point in the night. The purple cloth of the vira hung around her hips, at her breasts and as a veil over her hair. Ila grinned at him and the hrothgar purred a little, two more tankards produced for them.

Asmir's head buzzed with alcohol and his heart burned with triumph and want in even measure, his voice joined as the soldiers around them began an impromptu recital of the Ala Mhigan anthem for what was likely the thousandth time the song had rang out across the city that night. Ila giggled a little but joined in with him, a hand on one of his arms, the ananta slithering a little closer as drunken voices slurred the words. Even so he could not deny the heart and joy with which they sang for the freedom of their homeland.

“It growsss late,” Ila said once the song ended, her tipsiness adding a pleasant buzz to her normal hiss. “It must be close to the last bell if not there already.”

Asmir chuckled and grinned. “Indeed, but would you begrudge me my merriment, Ila? It was a long, hard battle, surely a man is entitled to song and cheer after such? Lads?” The soldiers around raised their mugs in a toast to that, cheering to his name once more.

“Aye, Asmir,” a familiar woman in Twin Adder garb declared. “Mayhap we will revel right until dawn.”

Asmir laughed. “I fear I cannot match that devotion, Braya, but by all means enjoy yourself.” The hrothgar stretched and joints popped, the sleeves of his robes falling a little to bear toned arms. Their time in the east had seen him work on honing body as well as mind and when Ila's fingers brushed on his muscles he found himself thankful for that effort. The ananta looked him over with green eyes, grinning wide as she leaned to his ear amid the soldiers bantering away.

“If you cannot lassst until dawn, mayhap you would like to retire,” she teased, fingers caressing. Asmir found himself surprised, he had wondered about Ila's intentions and _hoped_ for something like this sultry proposition, but he had learned enough about the ananta during the campaign for Gyr Abania that he had thought his chances very slim indeed.

He gathered his wits quickly despite the alcohol, year after year of seduction and such talk helping him keep his nerve. “I was led to believe your kind had no need of... that sort of thing,” he purred under his breath. Physically speaking, that was true, the ananta had no need of a mate to lay their eggs. How that was possible Asmir did not know, though if they were indeed old enough a race to have seen Allag in its prime then perhaps once more Allagan science was to take the credit. The hrothgar had seen enough bizarre and impossible creations in Azys Lla that there was little he believed Allag incapable of by this point.

Ila chuckled with a hiss. “ _Need_ and _want_ are not the sssame thing, Asssmir. Asss I'm sssure you appreciate.”

The hrothgar laughed back. “You have me to rights there, Ila. Very well.”

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Braya teased. “We are friends here, are we not?” They both turned to the midlander woman, momentarily frozen. “Oh, Asmir, still so shameless.” She laughed and the others joined her in a chorus.

“We were merely saying that we both were exhausted from a long sun,” Asmir retorted playfully, “and that we thought we might retire.”

Braya raised an eyebrow. “ _Retire_ , he says,” she purred. “Well, if you wish.” She shrugged and raised her tankard. “To Asmir Lianasch, Warrior of Light, hero, _lightweight_!”

Asmir laughed with her. “By all means, Braya, wake in the morning out here still, cold and stiff.” He grinned at her. “Meanwhile I shall have a warm bed and comfort.” He looked at Ila to see the ananta smirking in glee, a gesture Braya could hardly fail to notice.

But then Asmir did have his reputation regardless.

He stood from where he sat, a little shaky from the ample alcohol he had taken and been given, but confident in his ability to walk back to the palace. Ila rose with him from where she had rested on her coiled tail, empty tankards left behind. “Goodnight, my friends,” the hrothgar said with a wave. “May you all wake in warm beds and may your heads not ache _too_ keenly.” Braya certainly caught the sarcastic edge to his voice if no one else did, laughing merrily.

“Go and enjoy your _comfort_ ,” the midlander teased. “You have certainly earned it.” He chuckled deeply as he and Ila stole away into the dark, the fire's heat fading. Much like in the deserts of Thanalan, night in Gyr Abania was surprisingly chilly compared to the day's head. The cold bit through his robes and Ila soon shivered at his side, slowing as she slithered beside him.

“Forgive me,” the vira murmured when he stopped to let her keep pace. “Thisss cold...” Asmir smiled, reaching out to wrap an arm around her and gently rest clawed fingers on her scales. She shivered at his touch, excitement rather than cold driving it as the ananta turned emerald eyes on him. Her lips brushed his face eagerly and he pulled her closer, forgetting a moment that they were in the open as he eagerly savored the taste of her. His other hand stroked over her scaly 'hair' and she sighed in contentment.

“How long have you waited?” Asmir asked.

“Long enough,” Ila hissed, smashing her lips to his again. Her hands worked over his arms and chest, feeling at the muscle beneath and leaving her grinning when again they parted. “Unlessss you wisssh to do it here, we mussst needsss make hassste.”

The white mage laughed in tipsy glee. “To the palace, then.” His arm still around her they hurried through the streets, being cheered every time they passed a cluster of people and he was recognized. Ila had fought valiantly too, he thought, he had been there to see her valor across the battlefields of Gyr Abania. And when he had met up with Maurelin after the main battle to take the city, in a brief calm before the eight of them had faced Shinryu atop the Royal Menagerie, the duskwight had wryly commented that he understood what Asmir saw in her.

He had laughed back, neither of them taking it that seriously. How different it seemed now.

Palace corridors and stairwells passed, Ila taking the latter with his help. Soldiers and civilians passed them by, all raising hands to the Warrior of Light and cheering when they noticed how he held the ananta beside him. Asmir returned their waves with his free hand, grinning wide as Ila basked in the attention at his side. Surely they would be the talk of Ala Mhigo by the morrow, but he cared little for that as they found the row of rooms assigned to the Warriors of Light. A Resistance woman stood in the corridor, leaned against the wall with a warmly steaming mug.

“Good to see you come to bed,” she said, sipping at her drink. Even her obvious tiredness did not diminish the glow in her eyes at the sight of a hero in the flesh.

“Forgive me for keeping you so late,” Asmir smiled. “You need not have stayed.”

She shrugged. “You never know if a Garlean assassin might try their luck. My replacement will be along anon in any case.”

“Then we wisssh you a good sssleep,” Ila said.

“I would wish you the same, but...” She did not even have to finish the sentence as a wry grin played over her lips, before seriousness replaced it once more. “Thank you for all that you have done for Ala Mhigo.”

“We merely finished the fight,” Asmir said, looking between the two women. “It was you who fought long and hard to open the path for us. Goodnight and fare well.” He and Ila passed her, heading to the room she indicated. The two parted to pass through the door, amusing as it would surely be for the sentry to see them try to squeeze through the frame for a bell or two.

Luxury awaited, a large comfortable-looking bed, ornate decorations, the emblem of Ala Mhigo in silver on the wall. He looked about in wonder, padding over the rug as Ila drank it in wide-eyed. But soon enough they had eyes only for one another once again, Ila's lips taking his hard while the hrothgar stroked his hands over her back. He found the point where hyur skin met serpent's scales beneath her clothes, rubbing over it again and again to relish the way they seamlessly flowed together. Already he ached for her, her exotic beauty enough to stir his cock even before any clothes had fallen off.

“Ssstrip,” Ila hissed, kissing him harder as they worked together at his robes. White cloth tumbled to the floor, her hands brushing on sandy fur with nails scraping the skin beneath. The ananta sighed as she leaned back to take him in, her dark skin on his coppery when she stroked up and down his chest. The hrothgar purred contentedly at her touch, bringing a hand to her face to caress at her cheek. Ila's hands descended to his trousers, undoing them eagerly as he relieved her of her veil, running his hands through her scaly locks until she sighed in delight.

“Have you given any thought to how this will work?” he teased, groaning when she palmed him through his smallclothes.

Ila laughed, stroking his cock eagerly. “My sssissstersss would think me mad for even trying, but they sssay men have lain with ananta ssseveral timesss in our long hissstory. Life findsss a way, ssso it isss sssaid.”

Asmir laughed and moaned at once, her touch on him divine in spite of her inexperience. She seemed enraptured, exploring and experimenting to see what would make him react most. Fingers tensed and relaxed over his head and the hrothgar growled in pleasure, her hand sinking to his base with fingertips teasing his balls, then back up. “This is hardly fair,” he purred, looking her up and down until with a laugh she dispensed with the cloth around her chest. Asmir did not know which deity had blessed her people with breasts, but he thanked whichever it was kindly for the glorious swells as he lunged close. Ila froze startled before gasping in delight as his hand took one and his mouth the other, fingers gentle in wariness of his claws, the rough surface of his tongue scraping on her skin as he savored her like fine wine.

“Asssmir, oh, by Lakssshmi...” She caught herself, perhaps expecting him to scowl at the mention of the primal he had helped to slay, but the hrothgar grinned against her breast and merely continued. Her scent filled his mouth and nose, just as exotic as he had found her from the first. He was sure plenty would scorn him for doing this with a 'beast', ugly as he found that moniker. After all, by the measure of some, surely his own kind would be lumped under the umbrella of the 'beast tribes', and who was truly fit to judge?

No, hells take the damned label and whoever had conjured it.

Ila wailed in delight, tail writhing over the rug as the ananta stroked at his fur. Kisses peppered his head, finding his ears while he lovingly tended her. She shivered and whined for more, and Asmir obliged with deep suckles that left her gasping. He came away from marked skin to take her lips again, pulling her with him toward the bed. They tumbled onto the sheets still kissing, hands running over each other to take in every ilm they could, hers on his head and caressing his back, his seeking her waist with the other at her neck.

“Ila,” he panted when they parted, grinning at her and she at him. Coyly the ananta reached down to his hips, tail moving from where she had ground against him to let Ila slide down his smalls. Asmir helped her in a hurry, desperate to feel her touch with no layers in the way and surging with anticipation at the gleam in her eyes when he was laid bare. The ananta breathed a low hiss at the sight of his cock at full mast, leaning close until first her breath then her lips brushed on the head. Asmir growled approvingly and she continued, fingers rough from battle rubbing up and down the shaft with her mouth following in time. Curiously Ila took a lick, another growl escaping his lips joined by purring as she lapped again and again. As much as he wanted more, Asmir forced himself to be still and simply caress her head. All of this was new to her and he sincerely wanted to let her proceed at her own pace.

That she did, lips and tongue brushing on his member again and again until she glanced up with bright eyes and slowly took him between her lips. Asmir gasped at the feel of her mouth and tongue on him, meeting her green eyes and watching enraptured as she experimented with sucking him. A few times she went too far, gagging and retreating to gather her breath only to take him again once she had recovered. A low hiss reverberated on his shaft as she continued, her free hand caressing one meaty thigh while Ila slowly worked her way down his length until finally she managed to take all of him. She held him a moment, hissing around him in glee before letting him go to pant heavily away.

“By the Twelve,” Asmir crooned. “That was incredible, Ila, especially for your first time.”

“I'm glad to pleassse,” the serpentine woman smiled, pecking him on the lips with a satisfied smirk on her lips. “Essspecially to hear sssuch praissse from you.”

He laughed in a deep rumble. “I must needs share the praise around after having so much to myself.” They both shared a chuckle while he reached for her hips. “And I think it only fair that I see all of you after you have had such a fill of me.” The last cloth fell away to the floor, a final pool of purple, but his eyes were on her. Skin flowed perfectly into scale at her hips, the hrothgar gently tracing a claw over the point where they met while she squirmed, then dragging it down to an enticing slit in the scales.

“Asssmir, ah...” Ila whined as he cautiously probed her cloaca. “Oh by Lakssshmiiii-” Desperately, achingly she kissed him, overwhelmed by the new sensations as he touched her in a way that likely she had only ever touched herself, if that. This was new territory for him too and so he was cautious about it, testing her gently, drawing back as soon as he thought he might hurt her. But excitement welled hot and fierce at the thoughts filling his head, their kisses deepening as she continued to stroke his cock with one hand.

“Are you prepared, Ila?” he purred, receiving her enthusiastic nod gratefully. They rolled over so he lay atop her, drinking in her gorgeous figure for a moment with a deep sigh. “I feel blessed that you were so curious.”

Ila laughed. “That isss one way to put it. Asss I sssaid, my sssissstersss would think me mad for wanting thisss when I do not need it.”

“What a miserable world it would be if we only did what we needed and not what we _wanted_ ,” Asmir chuckled, brushing his cock on her smooth scales with a groan as he lined himself up.

“My thoughtsss exactly,” she teased, kissing him hard again before laying back. “Ssstop teasssing-” Before she could even finish, Asmir slowly pushed into her damp slit and she gasped at the feel of him. She was divinely tight as he expected, so much so he feared he would not go much further into her but he longed to do as much as he could. The hrothgar slid in and out of her virgin sex carefully, relishing in every little whimper and moan that escaped the ananta, her tail swaying between his legs to brush on his thighs while she reached up to stroke at his fur.

“Gods, Ila,” he growled, her walls squeezing him tighter the deeper he slid into her. Ila shivered and writhed with head tipped back, openly crying out in joy as for the first time she made love to someone. Passionate delight seared in his veins, happy to take her so, happy to be her first, overjoyed to lay with one so gorgeously exotic. “Oh, you are _perfect_.”

She shivered in delight. “Ohhh, Asssmir, more, more-” He quickened his pace confident he would not hurt her and Ila's hips rocked, instinct guiding her as though seared into her very bones despite her lack of need. Hungry eyes locked on his, the ananta panting heavy as he continued to thrust into her with her tail coiling up to slap at his rump. Asmir growled in aroused amusement and she did it again with a coy grin on her lips, each slap making him thrust a little harder until she could only wail in delight beneath him. His head descended to her neck, tongue lapping on dusky skin to bring her closer and closer to her peak with her walls growing impossibly tight around his shaft.

The hrothgar hadn't expected her to last long and soon enough Ila wailed a single high note, passionately kissing at his face while she shook with orgasmic bliss. “Oh, by Lakssshmiiii-!” she screamed into him, clinging tight to his body while he kissed at her neck in turn and kept going. Those wonderfully tight walls squeezed him hard as he thrust, driving him to the edge despite all his experience. It was all overwhelming, Ila's unbridled pleasure, her incredible tight wetness around him, the feel of her hands on him while she shuddered to a halt beneath him. Overcome Asmir slipped out of her, her hands moving to his slick shaft and stroking _tight_ while he rutted into them.

With a growled cry of her name Asmir hit his own peak, seed spurting out to splash on scale and skin while Ila hissed in joy at the warmth of it. He spilled onto her until she had him spent, working a shaft with nothing left to give while they both panted away like they had just surfaced from the ocean depths. Curiously the ananta leaned closer to lap drops of seed from his tip, swallowing them down after savoring the taste a moment.

“Bitter,” she chuckled when she caught his glance. “But not unpleasssant.”

Asmir laughed breathlessly, rolling onto his back at her side to lay panting a while. “How does it feel to be the first of your kind in a long while to lay with a man?” he purred, tipping his head to look at her as she sampled more of his seed with a finger.

“Delightful,” Ila sighed, tail wriggling in joy to brush on his leg. “If only I wasss not ssso ssspent already...”

The hrothgar raised a hand with a chuckle, tugging at his aether. “I may be able to help with that,” he teased, clawed fingers shining emerald as her eyes widened. “If you wish it, of course, Ila.”

“I mossst certainly do,” the ananta hissed, lunging to kiss him hard once again as he poured new strength into her body.

Ala Mhigo rang with celebration long into the morrow, but the two were lost exploring the glorious unfamiliar until they lay asleep well after the sun had risen.


	29. Of the Silver Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Worshipping  
> Spoilers for ARR 2.5

Blizzard winds wailed over Dragonhead like a chorus, splattering snow on the window again and again, but the mournful shrieking of the gale only resonated with Gerlind. She sat on the bed with her back to the wall, legs dangling out over space while the paladin bitterly reflected with firelight dancing on her face. For the first time since Nanamo had collapsed choking before her, there was _peace_ , reflection. But with that came everything she had witnessed but not had time to process, one terrible thing after another.

Nanamo choking, falling, _dying_. All while she knelt helpless over the Sultana's broken body, all her might useless against the poison and Teledji Adeledji's accusations. Aymeric called away, she still wasn't sure if that too was another thread in the web Adeledji had weaved even though she doubted his resources extended to bending the Horde to his will as well. An ill fate then.

Raubahn broken then raging. His nigh-demonic curse echoed in her mind, resonating with her own deep rage.

“ _You would mock her? Then mock her from Hell!”_

Gerlind clenched her fingers, a dark part of her wishing she had followed the Flame General's example. Could she have taken them all on without her fellow Warriors of Light, just her and the Scions against Crystal Braves and Brass Blades both? Yes. She and they could have carved a bloody path out of Ul'dah, but _then what_ once she made herself the very monster Adeledji had tried to brand her as? As it was she knew not how many had died just from the Scions trying to buy her escape with their lives, on top of Teledji Adeledji lying cleaved full in half on the floor of the banquet hall.

A cold harsh tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another and another. Yda. Papalymo. Thancred. Y'shtola. Minfilia. _All gone_ , just to save _her_. She had felled primal after primal, legatus after legatus, yet they were so much sand slipped between her fingers. Fingers clenched tighter until her nails bit her palm, blood welling with welcome pain. Even that did not stop her tears from pouring like cold acid on her cheeks, stinging with failure. She pictured them again and again as she had last seen them, each Scion giving themselves to speed her on her way, and in her memory she longed to turn, draw sword and shield, fight and fight and _fight_ so that instead of their lives weighing on her shoulders they would be here in Camp Dragonhead instead.

It was useless, of course. Even with all her strength, the hands of time were beyond her ability to force backward, and even with the Echo she could never change the past.

Impotent anger made her slam a fist into bedding and sheets, anything to try and vent even though her feelings still boiled away like some vile potion inside her. She should contact the others, she would have already but they dared not risk insecure linkpearls when Lolorito's coin bankrolled gods knew how many agents and more. Again and again fist met cloth, helpless, useless. Would that she had followed Raubahn's way, that dark part whispered, only to be forced down. No. That was not what she did, not who she was.

Then who was she? A servant, an _errand girl_ , nay, a _weapon_. Pointed at whatever threatened the realm and left to fend for herself when not needed. After all, Merlwyb and Kan-E-Senna had been right there, and neither of them had spoken so much as a _word_ in her defense before fleeing. After everything she had done, all the battles fought, all the pain suffered-

A knock sounded at the door. Gerlind frantically wiped tears from her cheeks, trying to swallow down bitterness and grief to croak out words. “Come in.”

Haurchefant swept in, still in his full mail, traces of snow lingering on his silver hair. He pushed the door closed behind him to keep the heat in. “I thought I ought to check on your well-being, my friend, while Alphinaud attends his own matters.”

“I am fine,” Gerlind replied, but the elezen sighed and sat beside her. A hand lingered next to her leg, the highlander eyeing it uncertain whether she wanted him to touch her or simply leave her to her dark thoughts.

“Your tears are an ugly thing and most obvious besides,” Haurchefant mused, looking her full in the eyes. “If you wish me to leave you to them, please say, but pray do not feel compelled to bottle your grief on my account. You have suffered much and more in the span of but a sun, tis only natural that you grieve so.”

Gerlind heaved a sigh, tears betraying her by running on her cheeks. “I-” Words failed her a moment and he sought permission with a raised hand, her nod bidding him to pull her close. “I feel as though I have _failed_ , Haurchefant. As though all I have done was for naught...”

“Nay, nay,” he crooned. “Eorzea yet thrives for your efforts, and tis an outrageous shame that such evil has been laid at your door most of all. Would that Ser Aymeric had not had to leave with such unfortunate timing or else I would like to believe he would have fought your corner like a lion.”

Gerlind scoffed. “Kind as Ser Aymeric is, he is a politician, like the Admiral, like the Seedseer. They would not _dare_ take a stand for me without first debating for suns on end whether it was to their advantage. Twas only the Flame General who fought at all, and it cost him his arm at best, his _life_ at worst. I should-”

Haurchefant held her tighter, tugging her into his embrace. Slender fingers traced soothing circles through her tunic, even the rings of his mail pressing into her not enough to overwhelm the comfort of his grip. “Your comrades would not wish you to impale yourself upon the bitter sword of 'what if' and I do not wish it either, Gerlind. You, Alphinaud and Tataru are here safely out of reach of your enemy, and when the day of reckoning for this wrong comes you will not find me absent.”

The Warrior of Light nodded into his arms with a heavy sigh. “All that I did, all that I have done, and yet when the time came that I needed _them_ none stepped forward to help me but the Scions and you, Haurchefant. I serve, I save, I _slave_ -” That dark part of her hissed the words through her lips until the elezen brought a hand into her curly hair and she found the bitter whisper silenced by his warm touch. Even through the leather of his gloves his fingers were comforting.

“I am here for as long as you need me, Gerlind,” he said softly into her ear. “Whenever you wish me to leave, but say the word.”

“The camp-”

“Will survive well enough without me a while, I am sure,” Haurchefant smiled, pulling back. “I believe them well used to my little absences, and Fury preserve I believe this one more justified than some.” That tugged a smile and a laugh from her lips, and the silver-haired man grinned in answer. “There is the smile that I cherish so.”

Gerlind laughed through her lingering tears. “You are comfort in elezen form, I find. First the cocoa and now this, to say nothing of you taking us in in such need.”

“Someone must needs attend to your needs,” the knight chided. “Fury knows that the rest of the realm seems to neglect them.” Her smile slipped, but his gloved hand came to brush at her cheeks and stir warmth where the leather touched. “To speak of the Fury, you would not be Her come before me? Your radiance can only be di-”

Gerlind chuckled through his flattery. “Did I mishear your title, _Lord_ Haurchefant? For I was given to believe you were the knight of the Silver Fuller, not the Silver Tongue.”

Haurchefant laughed with a bright gleam in his eyes. “Haurchefant of the Silver Tongue does have rather a different ring to it. Mayhap that can be our private joke, should it bring a smile to your lips.” His eyes flashed as he glanced downward. “In fact, should you be willing, I can certainly think of a way to make it a most _intimate_ jest.”

She sighed in joy rather than sorrow, his hand at her waist still, bodies so close, so yearning. Her blue eyes wandered over his face and his long ears, tracing over his own wonderful smile. From the moment she saw him she had been struck by how handsome he was, only to find herself drawn more by his warm, attentive way toward her. At first she had thought it merely chivalry, but chivalry alone did not explain the depth of his concern for her, the way he endeavored to lighten her burdens or else cursed his inability to do so.

Nor did it explain how she found herself bringing her face to his while Haurchefant leaned in turn.

Lips met, tentative at first but then giving their all in yearning. Haurchefant accepted her with the eagerness of one who has waited overlong, holding her tight while she brought her hands to his back. Firelight cast their faces in its glow while they pressed together, savoring one another, his silver tongue pressed to her lips until she brought her own to take its measure. The two groaned into one another in their aching need, hands scraping over clothes and longing to feel naught but bare skin instead.

To her surprise, it was Haurchefant who broke the kiss by pulling back. Want and longing flared in his eyes, but the elezen stilled himself a moment while he drew in his deep breaths. “Are you certain, Gerlind?” he asked, hands taunting her from his knees. “I would not wish to take advantage-”

Gerlind laughed. “As though you have not longed for me since the sun we met, I believe. Pray treat me as you would the Fury Herself , oh lord of the Silver Tongue.”

Haurchefant laughed. “Then I must needs ask you to dispense with your clothing, oh Fury.”

The paladin stood, pain buried by longing, lust, love and joy in even measure while she worked at her clothes. Haurchefant stood to help her like, dare she think it, a gentleman, her tunic falling away first, then her boots slipped off with her breeches following. Dressed in naught but her smalls, she let him guide her back to lay on the bed while he removed his mail, left in much the same sort of garb as she had just removed. His gloves joined the armor on the floor, Haurchefant's hands bare when they rested beside her. He looked her up and down, the dusky skin covered in scars, the plain black smallclothes, the strong muscles honed by years of fighting.

“Rest a while, Gerlind,” the knight crooned. “Let me tend you as the Fury indeed.” Lips descended, pressed to the skin of her neck while she gasped at his touch. His kisses were gentle things but they burned with such affection that even after he moved on she still felt them for a good while. Slowly Haurchefant tended her body, kissing ilm by ilm around her neck and down to her collarbone. He suckled a little at each kiss on that ridge, a whimper passing her lips when a hand reached out to lightly stroke at one breast with little circles around her nipple.

“Haurchefant...” she breathed huskily, receiving his smile with a groan at his fingers tightening on sensitive titflesh. He descended to his pilgrimage over her body once more, every kiss and touch a veneration as though she were indeed his very goddess. The elezen completed his tracing of her collarbone and peppered her shoulder with his touch carefully, then ran back down to the top of her cleavage. Gerlind craned her neck up, a hand softly stroking in his hair while he followed the vale between her breasts down to the top of her band.

He lingered there a moment in indecision before seemingly choosing to leave her smalls be, brushing his lips over them to continue his path over her cleavage, even that enough to make her squirm a little. She was used to rougher fare, relishing being taken with nothing held back or riding a man with all her strength, but Haurchefant's gentle affection was something entirely new but no less pleasing for it. If his own need rose he ignored it, fixated on tending her with his mouth pressing a line across her belly. He teasingly licked at her bellybutton in passing and she laughed in mock indignation, a cheeky grin at his lips when he glanced up to measure her face. Rather than go straight for her sex he skirted it, his path trailing over her panties to follow her left leg while he slipped backward to lean with feet on the floor.

“You are quite silent, oh lord of the Silver Tongue,” she teased, leaning over to muss his hair.

“Forgive me, oh Fury,” Haurchefant purred, rising just an ilm so his breath still brushed on her skin. “Your divine beauty has me quite dumbstruck.”

As much as she swatted at his ear like Tahla did to Maurelin, she could not deny that her heart fluttered at the words. “Pray continue, and let me take the measure of your tongue then.” Haurchefant's grin widened and he descended, eagerly kissing her and flicking his tongue over her skin until she whined. Down the meat of her thigh, over the swell of her knee than over her shin, unshaven hair not deterring him in the slightest. He reached her foot and continued, tracing the bones to her toes and kissing each in turn. The highlander giggled at the tickle of his lips on them, shivering in delight when he granted her other foot the same treatment and began to work back up her right leg.

“Does my worship meet your worthy standards, oh Fury?” he breathed against her thigh, daring to dip his mouth closer and closer to her apex while she groaned in want.

“Oh yes, by the Twelve,” Gerlind gasped. His tongue brushed over the inside of her thigh, _so close_ to her wet slit, his hand coming back up to her breast when he worked his way back onto the bed. His hips brushed her leg and she found him hard already just from kissing every ilm of her. How he wanted her, and how she wanted him, she thought breathlessly while he retraced his steps over her belly with kisses and licks at her skin. Daring hands slid beneath her while Haurchefant at last moved between her legs, raining kisses on her as fierce as the blizzard outside while his fingers tugged at the ties of her band. His cock brushed at her sex in their writhing, making them both moan even with the layers between them.

“Divine, simply divine...” Haurchefant breathed once his work was done, the band undone and thrown aside to lay her breasts bare. He slid back down, his member brushing over her slit between falling against the bed while he pressed his heavenly lips to her sensitive flesh. Quickly kisses gave way to licking, his laps on her skin and nipples making the paladin full cry out in joy. His hands tended where his mouth did not, lavishing her bust with brushes of that wonderful tongue until both nipples were hard peaks for him to suckle in earnest. His soft touches still drove her as mad as if he had spent furious passion on her, the echo of his lips and tongue as potent as the most savage of marks bitten into her skin. Gerlind soaked in hot need, panties surely drenched in her lust while Haurchefant continued his work. His love made her pain flee from its presence, replaced by a deep and soothing bliss even while the knight slowly took his mouth from her breasts to cross the expanse of her belly a third time.

“Oh, Haurchefant, please,” she breathed hard, fingers ruffling his hair furiously. “Let me feel that _silver tongue_ inside me.”

Haurchefant lifted his head to pant with his exertions, a mad grin of glee spreading his lips. “Might I be permitted a taste of your divine nectar, then?”

“Twelve, _yes_ , I know how you want it,” she groaned, feeling his hands leave her nipples in a new haste to tug at her panties. The sodden cloth stuck to her while Haurchefant pulled them down, peeling away slowly until strands of arousal snapped in their wake. She felt no shame at that, only delight at the longing that blazed in his eyes when he drank in her sex and the damp curls around it with the panties forgotten on the floor.

“If the Fury should permit it,” he purred, descending to brush his breath on her folds, “I would beg to have her as my _faithful steed_ this night.”

Gerlind laughed. “If what is yet to come is even half as good as what you have given, Haurchefant, you shall have many more nights than that.” His eyes flashed with joy and he buried his lips in her folds, kissing first, then letting his tongue play through her sex. Gerlind wailed at every brush on sensitive skin, crying out every time Haurchefant lapped up her slick and drank it down like he did indeed sup upon the very nectar of the gods. Even gentle it was maddening, his hands stroking slowly up and down damp thighs completing his work to send her soaring toward divine bliss. In all her years, the paladin had never felt so cared for, never felt as though someone else held her well-being as their utmost priority. But Haurchefant seemed to place her on a pedestal in his heart and the thought of that made her giddy while she stroked his hair in turn, trying to spur him and communicate the same feelings in turn.

His tongue found her hood and teased over her pearl until she cried out his name for all to hear. The blizzard would likely cover the sound but no such thought was in her mind, only wave after wave of delight at being worshiped so by the knight. Haurchefant was relentless in his affection, his mouth finding her most sensitive spots and tending them as though he had been her lover for years. Everything felt _right_ about how he treated her, as though he reveled in every imperfect ilm of her body and he would have loved her no matter how ugly her scars, no matter how unshaven her legs. When he looked up at her with his tongue circling on her clit, it was like he looked upon perfection incarnate, like he accepted even the parts of herself she deemed broken or unfitting.

Gerlind melted in his gentle grip, giving in to her orgasm as it came at a brush of tongue over pearl. Her head fell back to the pillows while her back arched, Haurchefant's soft hands unending in their strokes at her thighs even while her hips bucked hard and fierce into his face. The highlander felt him every second of it, tongue still gentle yet perfect inside her, bringing her pleasure to new heights while she screamed out his name and those of the gods for him, the blizzard and the night. Haurchefant crooned into her sex, the words impossible to hear but the feeling of them making her spend herself in a flood of fulfillment. Her climax splashed his face and the bedding alike, though he only seemed emboldened by that to continue working at her.

The nude paladin came to rest, body trembling with her afterglow as Haurchefant emerged and moved to lay beside her. She shuffled as best she could with shaking limbs to give him more room, letting their faces lay an ilm apart while she admired her mess glistening on him in the firelight. Despite that, he seemed _proud_ , as though it was indeed divine nectar and not merely mortal need that stained his skin. The elezen leaned in to kiss her, letting her sample herself off of his gentle lips, and she pressed herself to him in longing and felt his hard cock straining at his breeches.

“Whatever I may do for you, I shall,” Haurchefant breathed heavily. “If I may take your burdens in any way, pray allow me, for anything I can do to lighten your load is the worthiest of causes.”

Gerlind smiled. “At this moment, I merely wish to see if the knight of the Silver Tongue has a silver _cock_ as well,” she purred.

Haurchefant laughed. “To the hells with divinity and decorum, then?” She reached down to test his hardness, teasing a groan out of him and grinning at it.

“Fuck your _faithful steed_ , Haurchefant,” she chuckled, kissing him hard and receiving the press of his face on her in earnest while she unlaced his breeches. Surely it would all return, the pain, the grief, the anger. But while he lay beside her, his presence drowned it all beneath his love, and she would cherish that time with him to the full. So they made love amid the storm, his every touch a prayer, hers in return a blessing upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubt I'm the first person to ever come up with the 'of the Silver Tongue' twist to Haurchefant's title, but I loved it too much not to use it once it came to mind.


	30. The Dragon's Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Leather  
> Not exactly Shadowbringers spoilers, but some original lore

Blades danced and clashed, frost and embers alike falling from their edges with each stroke. The two samurai dueled in a dance, seeking to make each other yield rather than land a killing stroke, but as Zansei watched he felt that he would not have been able to tell if he hadn't known already. Kuri, his beautiful songbird, pressed the attack on one side of the marked circle, her katana a blur of steely light until the moment it found that of her opponent. Her red haori flowed in the breeze of her motion, russet hair seeming to blaze in the sunlight. Trees blossomed around, the circle a little way away from the Doman Enclave amid a forest of thin trees with many gathered to watch their lord face a Warrior of Light.

Lord Hien grinned in the instant where they locked blades, then the pair drew apart only to meet again in a rush of steel a moment later. The hyur lord stood a head taller than the petite raen, but even so she pushed him back before once again dancing out of his reach. Kuri's katana slid back into its scabbard, but Hien did not press the attack, merely bringing up his own blade to block with that grin on his lips. Zansei took a moment to glance about at the other spectators, many Domans he did not know admiring their lord in action, Yugiri an ever-faithful presence at the ring's edge, and Naeve watching her fellow Warrior of Light from his side. How quickly celebration had turned into a spectacle at the mere suggestion that Hien test his mettle against his fellow samurai.

Frost chilled Kuri's breath into mist before she flickered forward, blade hissing free awash in spectral cherry blossoms. Hien was hard pressed to block the strike, straining against the impact while the force of it washed over the spectators to ruffle kimonos and hair alike. Zansei grinned at his lover's might unleashed, just witnessing it enough to make levin dance in his veins. Step by step Hien was pushed back to the edge of the ring, glancing back with minor concern before he forced Kuri to a standstill a few ilms away.

“Such strength,” the hyur declared, taking a moment to collect himself without taking his eyes off of his opponent. “To witness you fighting is one thing, but to face you in the flesh is quite another, Kuri.”

The raen woman smiled back slightly. “The same to you, Lord Hien. Fighting like this, I feel like a novice taking her first steps with the blade once again.”

Hien laughed. “You have me fooled, then, for I would judge you a master with the katana. Such skill is a credit to your teacher.” A sorrowful light gleamed in Kuri's eyes a moment, then froze into ice while she once again closed the distance. Their swords crossed again and again, her blows pressing him back and back until he was right against the ring's edge and defeat. Still Kuri pressed her attack until with a smile Hien held up his hands. “I yield.”

Immediately Kuri softened, katana hissing into its sheath while she and Hien bowed to one another. The spectators applauded softly, Zansei's clapping the loudest of all and his cheers rising above their polite praise. Doman celebration was oft quiet, he had found, but he would always cheer loud enough to rouse the very gods if it was for Kuri. Her golden eyes found him with a warm glow, a gentle smile on her lips as she returned to his side. Her garments were new, a victory gift from the people of Doma for her and Naeve's triumph against the primal Amaterasu. Much as he wished he could have helped them in that fierce fight, he would only have been a burden to protect from being tempered, so the two Warriors of Light had stood alone against the kami of the sun.

And they had triumphed, he thought proudly as he took Kuri's hand and drank her in with joy. Her red haori only half covered her, armor of black leather fitting to her curves perfectly beneath it. Her tail flowed free through slits in both, the spines along its tail still broken from the battle with Amaterasu but healing well. As her hand took his, the leather of her kote brushed on his skin and he shivered at the feel of it. The quality, the texture, the way it clung so well to her, it all made his breath catch in his throat a moment.

Hien invited Naeve to the ring and the blonde viera stepped up, loading cartridges into her gunblade, but Zansei only half paid attention with his eyes fixed on Kuri. A hand came to brush in her hair and she looked away from the fight's beginning to grin up at him, leather-clad fingers stroking over his own until he hissed in delight. “Songbird...”

Kuri knew his tone well and she stiffened at it, eyes wandering about the crowd. Everyone else seemed intently focused on Naeve and Hien, watching katana meet gunblade with an explosion of aether from the latter that forced the samurai back and drew Zansei's eyes a moment. “Can you wait?” she whispered to him, only just audible above the clash of blades.

He _could_ , but he ached for her, blood hot from both the thrill of watching her fight and the sensual feel of leather on his skin. “Would you torture me so?” he purred.

Kuri stifled a giggle with a glance around, Zansei following to find Yugiri looking at them curiously. Of course she would notice something amiss, though the ninja wore a wry little smile when her gaze returned to the duel at hand. Naeve crossed his sight, meeting the slashes of Hien's katana with strokes of her gunblade and a rush of aether that left her a blur. Kuri tugged on his hand and he found her creeping away, following her eagerly while everyone watched the fight. He was sure she would apologize profusely later, and he would halfheartedly join in when she turned those golden eyes on him. That was how it always went.

But he loved her for it as much as he loved the feel of her kote on his skin. They retreated into the Kienkan, braving empty passages, glancing around corners until they reached their room and let the door separate them from the outside. Even within they could hear the distant sounds of Naeve and Hien's sparring, the crash of blades, the roar when Naeve fired a cartridge.

“Even the kami would be hard-pressed to match you in grace, songbird,” he breathed hot into her hair, putting his hands on her sides and relishing the smooth feel of her armor with every stroke of his fingers. Kuri hummed as she kissed him chastely, eyes slowly rising to find his own.

“Is that what has you so eager that you had to have me _now_?” she murmured, feigning disapproval before a smile broke the facade.

“Your new armor, too,” Zansei grinned, pressing a hard kiss to her lips until she moaned. “My Azeyma all in her splendor. How could I ever resist you?” His hand on her left slipped into the haori to caress her through fine leather, flowing up her side until he could brush a thumb against her breast. Kuri mewled into his mouth while he crouched to her level, venerating her.

Delicate hands played at the obi of his black kimono, untying the knot with precise motions until the cloth slipped down. Eager to please her Zansei shrugged off his clothes, left in just his smalls with the kimono around his feet and her hands rubbing on his toned chest. The sensation made him breathe heavier by the moment, near panting while he kissed along her jaw toward her horns. Tails joined at their side, rubbing at each other, his caressing over chipped and broken spines affectionately though the sharp edges scraped on his scales. Desperate for more he tugged Kuri's own obi until he undid it, dispensing with her haori to leave her in that dark leather beneath, her sheathed katana carefully set against the wall before they continued.

“Must you taunt Naeve so one more time before we return home?” she sighed.

“I would never aim to do so,” Zansei chuckled. “I long only for you, Kuri, and so keenly that I cannot help myself. Would that I could have witnessed your battle with Amaterasu and made love to you upon her ruin.”

Golden eyes flashed when she looked up at him, a little smile on her lips. “You truly are insatiable.”

“You talk as though you disapprove, songbird, but at every turn you join me,” he purred back, kissing into the hollow of her throat and growling in approval at the feel of leather-wrapped palms caressing his skin. “By Azim, Kuri...”

The russet-haired samurai hummed somewhere between approval and disapproval, but continued to stroke at his skin while his lips and tongue sanctified her throat. Slowly she groaned in aching need and Zansei grinned against her flesh, teeth joining the fray while Kuri mewled and let his hands take her breasts. He loved her ample chest to begin with, but to caress them through the stiffness of her sculpted armor was something new and wondrous entirely. Zansei had been around leather aplenty in his time on the Steppe, but never had it and Kuri combined so to leave him breathless and wanting more fiercely than usual. Kuri made to begin undressing, but he shook his head desperately to her clear surprise.

“Songbird,” he murmured against her horn. “Touch me, please.” Understanding glowed in her eyes and she brushed her hands down his chest, working over his muscles while he shivered in joy. Zansei groaned at the feel of her pressing herself to him, hands leaving her bosom to instead stroke, one in her hair, the other on her back to drink in the feel of her garb. With her lover at his full height Kuri ground against him up to his chest, burying kisses on his scales and teasing his cock against her belly. The male au ra groaned in yearning, aching for more of her heavenly touch, for her leather-wrapped body to tease him in new ways.

“Come,” Kuri spoke, her own hunger burning in her voice when she pulled him toward the futon. Zansei followed helplessly, a marionette to her whims as he always was, and the way her russet hair danced over black leather was enough to make him ache. His songbird tugged at his smalls once they had stopped, baring his throbbing hard cock to her eyes and humming in delight at how it rose firm before her eyes. Without stopping she palmed it, fingers closing while Zansei moaned at the brush of smooth leather on his head.

“Kuri...” His voice came in a low aching whine unlike him, but Kuri all but smirked at the sound of him so undone and her pleasure sparked his own. Each stroke of his shaft had Zansei weaker at the knees, in longing awe of her while she pulled him close to kiss him hard and fiercely.

“Tell me what you would like, my love,” she whispered warmly, fingers tightening until Zansei moaned into her mouth.

“Let me be your throne, songbird,” he all but begged. “Let me _feel_ you.” Kuri dragged him down with her, the samurai wrestling his boneless body to the futon and making him lay on his back while she burned his skin with every burning kiss. Whenever they made love right after she had fought she was fiercer, her blood yearning to blaze and Zansei longing to stoke her inferno to its peak, and even if her duel with Hien had been for courtesy and practice it still left Kuri eager for him. The petite woman pressed him down with her hips atop his, her sex pressed to his cock with hakama and panties between them. But that only made Zansei groan all the harder at the roll of her hips atop him, reaching eagerly to run his hands up her sides and caress Kuri's breasts once more. Little mewls and whines poured from her lips each time she scraped her slit against his member, the barriers between them doing nothing to dull the pleasure they both felt, and in his case the rub of leather over his throbbing manhood only made him want her more. Kuri's tail stroked at his legs, the softer scales on its underside alongside the rough feel of broken spines caressing his shins again and again.

“Oh, Zansei,” she moaned deeply, his fingers doing their best to mark her bosom through the material of her armor. “By the Twelve...”

“Sing for me, songbird,” he groaned, hips bucking into her to make them both gasp. “Let me hear and feel you both.” Kuri's eyes slid closed and she tipped her head back, riding him more furiously, each roll of her hips flowing into the next as they found their rhythm and her cries blended into his own to become a melody. She was like a dragon atop her, he thought feverishly in the throes of passion, horned, majestic. The leather fit her so well that it might as well have been another layer of scales, except where her natural ones were rough for the most part the form-fitting armor was sleek and smooth to his touch. Her hakama stroked over his cock so delightfully that he could not stop his deep groans, nor did he want to, listening to them combine with Kuri's ever-rising wails at how he pleased her.

Her hands came to rest on his chest, fingertips brushing at scales, leather-wrapped palms pressing hard against his ribs while he thrust up to meet her each time. Kuri cried his name to the ceiling and he gasped hers in answer, his own hands clinging desperately to his beautiful goddess. She fell forward to take his lips, horns brushing together as he moved his hips to thrust hard against her. Each rut found her doubtless sodden folds and made her full scream into his mouth, gasps and whimpers in the gap between each.

“Zansei, please,” she whined an ilm from him. “I _need_ you-” Another thrust hit home and Kuri cried his name once more, her lover forcing himself to still. Kuri rose, trembling fingers peeling down her hakama like she was an ananta shedding. He could hear the leather pull away from sweat-soaked skin and scales, even the sound enough to bring a moan of arousal to his lips while he watched her lay slender legs, damp scales and her soaked core bare. Kuri swayed as she pulled trousers and panties both off of her feet, tossing them aside only to dive back atop him with her top left alone.

Too far gone to hold back, Zansei slipped into her flower with a single hard thrust, immediately going all out while Kuri bounced atop him. Her head fell back as far as it could to let her scream in utmost pleasure, breath coming in ragged pants between each wordless wail while her fingers scraped on his chest once more. Incandescent they made love, his own hands savoring the sensation of her breasts through leather all the way to an end that approached all too soon. They were both too close to last long but all Zansei knew was the feel of her around him and in his hands, each of her cries and moans another note in the exquisite song that they could only sing together.

“Songbird, Kuri-!” She was close but he was _closer_ , unable to stop the tide of his pleasure from overflowing, only just gasping her name as a warning before he spilled into her. His seed flowed hot like the blood in their veins, flooding into Kuri's sex in thick spurts until every thrust squelched inside her. Still she rode him desperately, he was the steed she rode to her own climax, the throne atop which she knew the most absolute pleasure, and so Zansei continued his own upward thrusts even while his veins surged with levin and flame alike. Breathlessly he panted her name as his mantra, head resting on the futon and eyes fixed on her upward-turned face, battling oncoming exhaustion to keep bucking his hips to meet her downward fall.

“Oh, Azeyma!” Kuri cried aloud, voice ragged from her wails. “Zansei, I-”

“Cum for me, songbird,” he panted. “Our song is not over until then!” Kuri nodded furiously, eyes pressed closely and lips spilling her cries into their melody. At last a single transcendent note rang from her throat, a wail of his name that seemed to last forever. He _longed_ for it to last forever, to stay joined to her for eternity as he always wished, but of course that could not be. Instead he pulled her down to hold her close, stroking her through her top while she trembled in orgasmic bliss and whimpered away into his neck. Her lips kissed him again and again, brushing over the lump in his throat while Zansei crooned to her softly. His very sun, his goddess, his heart. He kissed at russet hair and offered thanks to gods and kami alike for her.

Leather rubbed against his chest until she lay still, breathing heavily with a horn resting atop his shoulder. Still Zansei stroked at her body, relishing every gentle brush of his hands on leather and the skin beneath. Her fingers crept up to his shoulders while she panted, her eyes fluttering open with a brush of lashes along his scaly jaw.

“I believe that worth abandoning the duel,” Zansei teased, fingers rubbing through her locks while he chuckled.

Kuri giggled. “We will be apologising _profusely_ to Naeve and Lord Hien later, Zansei.” She sighed into his throat, leaning up to brush her lips on his jaw. “But making love with you is always wonderful.”

“My songbird,” he crooned, kissing at her forehead until her eyes closed. “So beautiful. So divine.” His hands continued to stroke at her back. “I must needs pay Lord Hien my own compliment for your clothes.”

Her head came up, golden eyes curious. “You did seem unusually hesitant to undress me,” she teased. “Whatever was it that stopped you? And what stirred you so to begin with?”

Zansei brushed a harder stroke down her spine. “This wonderfully fine armor of yours, songbird. So _smooth_.” He all but purred and she smiled up at him, pecking kisses along his jaw again.

“Mayhap not the use Lord Hien intended for it, me neither,” she murmured. “But if you like it so, I am sure we can find its like just for the bedroom.”

He grinned openly, taking her lips firm and fiercely a while. “You honor me greatly, Kuri.” Beyond their little nest he heard voices calling their names, Naeve and Lord Hien and Yugiri among others. He sighed. “Ah, it seems we were missed.”

His lover chuckled like song, slowly rising to stretch with his seed and her slick both on her thighs. “We must needs be dressed swiftly.”

Zansei shot her a wicked smirk. “I would not wish you to stain your gifts with my seed, songbird.” Kuri glanced back from where she had been moving to dress, fixing him with her golden eyes.

“Then mayhap you will clean your mess,” she teased. Eagerly he lunged to lap at her thighs, longing to hear more of her divine voice teased out by the stroke of his tongue. Whether he finished before Hien, Naeve or someone else stumbled across them, he did not care.

As he licked their release from her skin and scales, his hands continued to rub over the leather of her top. He would indeed have to thank the people of Doma for awakening him to a new desire he had not realized he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very disappointed that they didn't finish the big Shinto trio as primals in Stormblood, hence Amaterasu coming up in A World Apart and this one.


	31. Life Flows Abundant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Anything You Like/Pregnancy   
> Set post-canon with spoilers for Shadowbringers up to 5.3

The aetherial sea faded and the Goblet came into focus around Solemn Flame, white stone buildings all around, street after street bustling with people. Winter did not affect Thanalan as harshly as it did Gridania or Limsa Lominsa, so where he had shivered in Gridania mere moments before he found himself pleasantly warm beneath the sun as he strolled down the street. Thoughts still whirled in his head, the ways of the astrologian in Urianger's antiquated tones, tome after tome Tahla and Asmir had gone over with him, much and more weighing on his head as his satchel weighed on the hellsguard's shoulder. Black robes swished about his legs as he walked, sunlight warm on his bare scalp.

“Afternoon, Flame,” a Brass Blade greeted in passing with a bow of his head, the hyur continuing on his way while the roegadyn answered in turn. Still the tempestuous thoughts went round and round until he found himself at a red front door, entering without stopping.

“I am home!” he called into their house.

“Welcome back, love!” Naeve answered, just the sound of her voice enough to make him smile. In a rush to see her he took off his boots in a hurry, passing from hallway to sitting room as swiftly as he dared. He found her stretched across the sofa, his wife's ears perked up where she had been listening for him and a book open in her hands. Her teal eyes sparkled when she looked over the pages to see him, her free hand rested on the swell of her belly even as she turned to let him sit beside her. She wore just an icy blue robe of silky cloth and he still found it strange even after a good moon of her leaving the battlefield to her fellow Warriors of Light. The sight of her was ever enough to make his heart skip its beat and his breath catch, moons of marriage yet to bury that simple but overwhelming feeling of raw love for her. His red eyes rested at her swollen belly a moment while he crossed to join her, the thought that it was _their child_ she bore enough to make him giddy in the head once again.

“Forgive me for my lateness,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to the marks on her cheek before letting Naeve lay into him and snuggle close.

“Did Urianger keep you overlong again?” she sighed, kissing him in turn. “If you keep spending all this time training with him, I fear you will come back to me _speaking_ like him, love.”

Flame chuckled heartily. “He is not to blame this time, though I feel I might well start to speak like him at times.” He rested a hand on her belly, fingers brushing hers and his thumb softly stroking. Naeve sighed in contentment and smiled up at him, nestling her head against his neck.

“If Urianger did not keep you, then who did?” she murmured.

“I went to visit Asmir and Tahla again,” the hellsguard confessed, breath brushing in her white-streaked locks as he pressed a kiss against an ear.

“They will not slack if you leave them be a sun, my love,” Naeve giggled. “By all accounts Asmir has confined himself to his chambers and forsaken female company while he labors.”

The roegadyn laughed out loud. “The rogue, as though he would ever go so far. But he most definitely continues his preparations, and Tahla too.”

Naeve was silent a moment, folding the corner of her page to mark her place and setting the book aside so she could bring an arm to lay on his chest. Fingertips brushed on his robes affectionately while she relaxed against him. “I know it will not quell your worries, Flame, but I shall have the best in the realm taking care of me when the day comes. We have trusted our lives to Tahla and Asmir so often before, is this so different?”

He struggled to gather all his doubts and worries into something coherent, kissing over her forehead while he tried to do so. “Tis one thing to lay my life in their hands in the thick of battle, certain that their magic will work. Tis another to be walking in the dark of the unknown, unable to do anything but pray, Naeve.” Thick red fingers stroked across the cloth of her gown, trying to communicate his love to her and the baby within her both.

Naeve leaned up to kiss him, her hand turning his face so their lips met. He held her tightly, longing to shelter her from all the world's hardship even though he knew she was more than capable of meeting it head on. Her slender fingers cupped his cheek when they slowly pulled apart, teal eyes meeting his red and both ablaze with love. How he wished he could know for certain that all would be well in their unusual coupling, that both she and their child would be safe for certain. He had taken up the discipline of the astrologian to be able to help in his own light, to offer more than prayer and hope when the time came, yet still he felt powerless.

“I love you,” Naeve whispered. “And I am glad to bear _our_ child, Flame. That night in Costa del Sol, I prayed with all my heart for it.” He felt the callouses in her fingers when they stroked at his cheek, his own digits smooth by comparison from a life spent in books and magic rather than the ways of spear and gunblade. They caressed and kissed, losing themselves in mutual yearning and affection. Her touch left his skin tingling in its wake, his own slowly bringing soft sighs from between her lips in between kisses. The roegadyn had always found Naeve beautiful, even in the days when she was aloof and distant and the bond they now shared had seemed an impossible dream. But she seemed more beautiful and wonderful than ever in his arms in that moment, ablaze with the glow of life, his love for her burning more brilliantly than ever.

“I only wish to see you and our baby safe,” he murmured to her. “I love you both more than _anything_ else on this star.”

Naeve smiled warmly at him. “Oh, Flame,” she smiled. “But you have neglected us so on your quest.” A mischievous glow lit in her irises. “Come, tend our child and I, set your fears aside.”

He could not help but smile back at her. “Have you missed me so, Naeve?” Her hand took his against her belly, guiding it to the silky ribbon that bound her robe closed.

“More than anything, love,” the viera breathed. “Will you not sate your wife's needs?” Once again her lips brushed on his, playful and teasing, pulled away after the merest second. Desire burned in his veins and his face chased hers for a harder kiss, fingers tugging at the ribbon until its ends trailed away over Naeve's thighs. The robe slipped open down the length of her chest, catching on her breasts and falling away to the sides of her bump. Immediately Flame's fingers caressed her bare belly with the gentlest strokes, his tongue brushing on hers over and over, both of her hands coming to him. One set of fingers brushed over his cheek and through his beard, the other rubbing on his shoulder.

“My love,” he breathed heavily once the kiss ended, taking just a second to catch his breath before they smacked back together once more. Slowly they tipped over with Naeve's legs coming to rest over his thighs, her head laid against an armrest and his kisses falling over the peak of her chin to drip on her throat again and again. The new position had her robe slipping further, her entire gorgeous body laid bare for him to admire when he rose to gaze over her.

“Shall we make love here?” Naeve breathed.

“The bed would be more comfortable,” Flame replied, eyes tracing over her curves a moment before he descended to suckle at her collarbone. The viera's head slowly tipped over the edge, ears pointing toward the floor beneath when his kisses trailed down to her breast. She mewled in delight at the feel of his lips on her nipple, eagerly pressing his head to her chest with both hands and writhing underneath the roegadyn. He suckled and kissed for a minute, then lifted his head from her chest to lavish kisses on her swollen belly instead.

“Oh, my love...” his wife sighed. “Take me to bed, please.” Her legs swung back down to let him stand, and he wished with all his heart that he was strong enough to lift her in his arms and carry her to the bedroom as though they were newlyweds once more. But he had always been the runt of the litter, his strength in mind rather than body, and she knew it no matter how they might long for such romantic fantasies. Instead he took her hands when they reached out to him, pulling Naeve to her feet firmly but gently to stumble with her in a whirlwind of kisses and touches. His robes were undone and pulled off somewhere along the way, a trail of cloth left behind them in shades of black and cold blue until when they stood in intimate embrace before their bed they both lay bare as their namedays.

His hands rested on Naeve's waist, cupping her pregnancy like the most sacred of relics. They were greater than any treasure he had ever pulled from the dungeons he had delved, more valuable than every last gil on the star put together, irreplaceable and wonderful. It hurt to know that she had felt even the slightest neglect on his part, but his fervor was born of love and his fear of the unknown that awaited. A child born of a roegadyn and a viera was unheard of in any tome he could find, beyond even the seemingly boundless depths of Urianger's knowledge as well.

Naeve's kisses burned on his lips to wipe his mind blank of fears once again, her hands at his back to pull him as close as she could. The embrace was gentle, mindful of the life that grew within her, but feeling her against him was ever enough to make Flame burn like his namesake in incandescent love. Slowly she pulled them to the bed, again mindful of their child with how she landed softly on the black sheets. Side by side they lay close, one hand each at the other's face, his other rested on her belly while hers slowly found his hardening cock and lavished it with her languid strokes.

“Naeve, love,” he groaned, hips rocking against her hand while she smiled affectionately. They lay with their gazes rested on each others' eyes a while, just taking gentle strokes and the occasional little kiss, basking in the mere feeling of laying utterly bare to one another in the warm cocoon of their shared love. Flame was first to move, slowly running his kisses down Naeve's body. He found the faded line of a katana scar at her shoulder, following it down toward the swell of her bosom. His mouth lavished her breasts until both nipples were hard peaks, then the roegadyn returned to his affectionate worship of her belly with hands and lips both. Naeve moaned and mewled with her own hands caressing his head and her stomach both, breathy whispers of his name stoking his inner inferno to a glorious peak. The hellsguard felt like his whole body was incandescent with love and affection, his kisses lasting longer and longer until each one flowed into a suckle.

“Oh, Flame, by the Fury-” Before long she panted in aching need, her belly marked all over with purple and red where he had burned the imprint of his love for her and their child both. Flame descended further, leaving a hand rested on her stomach while he kissed over her smooth labia, tongue flicking between them to taste Naeve's nectar. She whined with a buck of her hips that he eagerly accepted, parting her folds to gain access to her moist petals and flinging an arm back to grope for a pillow on which to lay head and ears.

“My queen,” he breathed against her flower, crooning sweet nothings even while he tasted every ilm of her sex. Naeve's legs spread wide around him, desperate to let him delve as deep as he could into her and bring her the utmost pleasure. He obliged in passionate want, fingers joining lips and tongue until his wife wailed aloud for him again and again.

“Flame, oh Flame, yes, yes, Twelve-!” Every word was music in his ears, more fuel upon his flame until his cock lay throbbing without anything more than her earlier gentle touch. He longed to be one with her, to let her feel him inside her, and so he surged up until their faces touched once more. “Make love to me,” Naeve whimpered when his cock head brushed over her folds. “Oh, my husband, my love, please-” He cut her off with another fierce kiss, relishing how she moaned into him when he slid into her. Hands ghosted on her sides while Flame gently thrust, easing into her and caressing her belly while he savored the taste of her on his lips. Red fingers brushed on tanned skin and black bedding again and again while he knelt before her, the viera's thighs light against his hips every time he brought her to his hilt.

“Oh, Naeve, my love,” he groaned, her sodden petals gripping him tight as he struck at her spot. Naeve cried out in loving joy, one hand rested on her belly protectively, the other reaching for him, and he loved how even in the throes of passion she still laid a hand against their child. He supported himself with a single arm no matter how it began to ache, the other still caressing at the swell of her stomach, his love and her love poured down upon their unborn child. With every touch of his hips to hers Flame stared with greater and greater affection, praise falling like rain from his lips in panted cries. “My goddess, oh, you are perfect, Naeve-” Her sex grasped him tight and he moaned wordless want, intensifying his thrusts, stroking at her belly quicker. Their fingers touched atop her pregnancy, their family united in one moment that left him breathless in awe.

More passionately than ever they made love, as though their shared joy at the life within Naeve was the finest tinder for the flames of their longing. Their rhythm reverberated with every press of hips to hips and cock head to her spot, both crying aloud as though trying to make even the Twelve mark their lovemaking. Flame's world was naught but Naeve and the child, hers naught but him and the same, singing to one another in pants and wails that rang with undeniable tenderness. Flame found himself wishing to nourish her womb further as though that were possible, for the seed he would spill in her to blossom into another beautiful life or else nurture the baby that already grew. That was impossible, but he let every breathless moan and each impassioned wail ring with all his devotion to them both.

“Flame, I-” She faltered into a scream when he found her spot hard, her body trembling beneath his touch. Flame's arm ached but still he used just the one to hold himself over her, unwilling to take the other from its ministration of her belly. “So so close, love-”

“Me too,” he moaned, taking her to his hilt once again and reveling in a louder cry. She heaved against him as best she could, making hot love with him with eyes locked shut and back arched. Every breath was another cry of his name or a deity's name, coherent sentences torn apart by the throes of her pleasure. The sight of her so enraptured, so perfect was enough to bring Flame right to his edge and the tightening of her walls sealed it. Before she could climax, he beat her to the punch in a flood of seed and a scream of her name that rang from the walls. At last his flames burned to their peak and fell, embers of pleasure seething through every nerve while the roegadyn rutted into her seed-laden sex. His own release seared at his cock, Naeve's heat burning and clenching him like a fist as the viera screamed his name until it flowed into a single glorious note of utter pleasure.

Their fingers threaded against her belly, clinging to one another and their child while they weathered their orgasms. Flame tumbled panting, slipping from her sex and pulling her onto her side while he fell on the sheets. Cock and sex both leaked his seed, white stains on the black bedding, but he only barely noticed with all his attention fixated on his wife as she came undone in orgasmic throes. One red hand took her cheek and caressed, lips softly tending head and hair with his other hand still holding hers against her stomach. Naeve's screams slowly descended into soft mewls, her writhing turned to still whimpering against his face. At last they were still once more, afterglow radiant in their eyes when hers slid open to meet his.

The viera stretched up to kiss him gently on the lips, keeping his hand at her belly. “I worry for our child too,” she breathed at last. “But I know we do all we can to safeguard them and I, Flame, and I _prayed_ for this knowing from the beginning that even should we conceive, it would be difficult.” Fingertips stroked his face while she smiled, and slowly he smiled back.

“I worry because I love you both so,” he sighed, kissing her back. “Try as I might, I cannot rest easy until the day I know that you and they are safe and hearty, Naeve.”

“I know,” she murmured, fingertips slowly stroking at her stomach. He repeated the gesture, brushing their twined fingers together while Naeve sighed in contentment. “Have you turned any more thought to names, love?”

The hellsguard chuckled softly. “Surely the one who has borne our child inside her would better know a fitting name than I.”

Naeve laughed. “You may regret that line of thought once the baby begins to kick in earnest, my love.” Her jest turned the corners of her mouth up further. “Although all will be forgiven on the day, worry not.”

He rumbled with more laughter. “The most gracious of souls on top of being the most beautiful and divine. Both I and our child are blessed to have you, Naeve.” He sighed in wistful longing, continuing to gently caress her hair and belly a while.

“I love you and them both,” the viera murmured, bringing her forehead to rest on his. They lay in a gentle embrace, utterly blissful and bare beside each other, pouring all their love upon the life blooming within her womb. “Always, unto the very end of all.”

“Unto the very end of all,” Flame breathed in answer. “By Hydaelyn, by the Twelve, I promise I will be with you both until then and beyond.”

Naeve smiled wide, eyes wide and bright, and when he looked into them he knew only the gentle warmth of utmost love for her and their child. Zenos yae Galvus lay dark upon the horizon still, a gathering storm whose movements they did not yet understand. Further beyond, the sundered Ascians schemed and Zodiark hung as an absolute shadow. But they seemed _tiny_ in the depth of his feelings, dwarfed to specks by the intense flames of his love for the pregnant viera and the seed of life within her belly. Flame kissed her then moved to press his lips to her stomach one more time.

In that moment, every fear and doubt was gone. Only his indomitable love for them remained, a light before which no shadow could last, no storm could rise. It blazed like a blade of light to cut through the darkness of the unknown, illuminating a perfect future in which he saw them both with a blanket-wrapped baby in Naeve's arms and him holding the two close. Flame and Naeve basked in that radiance, holding one another and cradling their unborn child all while the world turned onward outside the bubble of their embrace.


End file.
